Malfeasance
by The Seventh Circle
Summary: Intrigued by a mystery, Raven falls for a trap, one conducted by a sociopath we all know and love. What evil does he have in store for her? Rated M for language/"THEMES". Slade-Raven / Slaven.
1. Chapter 1

A well defined glare stricken across her pale face, she was becoming more and more aggravated by her team. They hadn't been out-and-about fighting as much as usual, and therefore were becoming restless.

"Dudes! I'm getting fat…" Beast Boy complained, observing his muffin-top in a mirror worriedly.

"Maybe if you went to the gym more than once a month, you'd have a rockin' body like me," Cyborg gloated, a wide grin gleaming smugly.

Turning away from his reflection, the jaded boy pushed his lower lip up in an adorable pout, even if he meant it to be a fearsome one.

"Aw, wittle Weast Woy is a wittle angwey," the half robot, half jock teased, flipping a burger into the air, his absurd chef hat tilting back and forth as he watched the greasy thing flip.

"Ya' know," his friend cracked, a mischievous smile growing. "Burgers won't help those lunch lady arms of yours."

Coming onto the grill with a perfectly timed thud and a puff of steam, Cyborg's eyes widened self consciously as the burger below him broiled, causing a low giggle to peep out in the background.

His eyes narrowed angrily as Robin chuckled from the couch. Pleasantly eavesdropping, the conversation was highly amusing to the teen, to the boy who never gained a pound.

"You got something to say?!" the robot yelled, now up in arms, his spatula aimed pretentiously at the spiky head. "At least I'm not anorexic!"

_So it begins_. Raven rolled her eyes heavily; it didn't take an Empath to sense an idiotic argument was brewing.

"I'm not anorexic!" Robin defended childishly. "I just eat right, exercise, and…"

"Run like forty million miles a day," Beast Boy chimed in. "Sounds pretty obsessive to me, dude."

As she predicted, they all started yelling. Vulgarities concerning fat mothers erupted as well as a folly competition about who had the most impressive muscle, thus leading to all of them ripping off their shirts, in Cyborg's case opening his metal chest cavity, pointing at their upper bodies in a puff of insecurity.

She set the book down, placed her tea cup upon the counter, and stood.

"Idiots…" she mumbled under her breath before calmly walking out of the room.

She passed a confused Starfire on the way out and heard the alien girl diplomatically assert:

"Friends, all of you are in unfavorable statuses concerning your health, do not argue."

_Poor Starfire…_Raven pitied sarcastically as the door shut closed.

Through the decreasing crack of the panels, a multitude of cusses were already flying from the mouths of the macho men to the girl with the scarlet hair.

Luckily Raven wasn't around to hear it.

The hallway shimmered from dim lights, the shadows playfully trotting with her as she wandered down to her room. Her mind filled anxiously with wondrous images of flickering candles, sacred texts of poetry, and her cozy fittings that aptly described her personality.

Like many teenagers, her room was a sanctum to just be herself, alone.

Only a handful of people managed to get passage into it, and she made sure they had Hell to pay when they did.

One person, if you could call him that, actually did preside in such a place already…

Heaving a sigh, she intercepted this morbid thought and switched back to peaceful imagery, tucking the memories of Trigon back into the Pandora's Box of her mind, where they belonged. Yet, as revenge, a migraine sprouted painfully and she caught a pained breath before leaning up against the cold, metal wall.

"Christ!" she swore under her breath, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead, wiping the sweat sprouting there with a swipe.

Kicking herself, she remembered that she had left the pain medication untouched on the table in the lounge. She had been meaning to swallow the dry pills until the boys had distracted her.

_Stupid Beast Boy._

A grimace implanted, she grinded her teeth, closed her eyes, tried to remedy the ache deep within her cranium.

For too long she had these painful occurrences. Every day, usually at the same time, she suffered a massive throb that seemed to split her head in two. She had told Robin about it, asked Cyborg for a good tonic of chemicals she could take, and even called on Starfire to try one of her home therapies.

Robin suggested meditating, which she was already putting into practice.

Cyborg devised a relatively successful batch of pills, the ones she had stupidly forgotten.

Starfire set her hair on fire, and made her smell like a cigar for a week.

_What was I thinking? It took me weeks to get my hair back._She remembered satirically, before another ripple crashed through her psyche.

"Breathe…just breathe it out…"

Sucking in a deep gust of air through her nose and expelling it calmly out her mouth, it did ease the tension slightly.

Of course she was only a foot away from her door, but it felt like crossing the Sahara. Stumbling through the shifting entrance panels, she made it to her bed, kicking the many books on the ground out of the way. Candles illuminated as she entered, yet the room darkened when they became the only source of light.

Finally rummaging her way around, she found her plush mattress and flopped onto it, breathing in the soft scent of lavender impressed in her covers. Taking a few cycles of breath, letting the intoxicating smell numb her body with pleasantness and the few wavering lights soothe her brain, she finally had the strength to sit up.

Her old fashioned clock ticked gently, 7 pm was quickly approaching.

_How long was I laying there?_She pondered in surprise; it had only been 3 pm when she left the main hub.

The window, now covered by a thick curtain, testified to it, even through the cloth she could detect the thick black horizon marking night.

Shrugging apathetically, she decided to try her luck at meditating. It had been increasingly hard to do so, what with the frustrating headaches, but now they had subsided. All it had taken was four hours of weighty breathing.

Yet, when she saw the positioning of her books upon the carpet, she shook her head, unimpressed.

She raised her white, slender hands into the air and rearranged the sloppy novels back into extensive, neat stacks. Supposing it also may be a good time to tidy things up, the flowing black energy also shifted her ornaments around to fit her fancy.

Fixed, waxed candles now sat around her bed spiritually, seer stones were set in certain shelves while powders and grains remained in others, and her cloak collection was folded and placed in drawers, while the contaminated ones were flipped into a bin.

Sighing contentedly, she observed her new fittings and a smirk graced her lips.

Now, she could meditate without worrying about the status of her room, not that many people entered, but that didn't mean she couldn't keep it polished.

Crossing her legs into the familiar pose, she shifted her elbows, wrists, and fingers into the classic display. Eyes glowing white, body engulfed in a brief veil of shadow, her powers were ready to be wielded.

"Azeroth, Metrion, Zinthos," she chanted silently. "Azeroth, Metrion, Zinthos."

Her pastel eyelids closed tenderly, and in her mind's eye the world broke open for her. Carried on ebon wings, she was lifted through the stars and heavens, floating in the sparkling waters of space and time.

Each twinkling bulb reflected a person, each sparkle, an emotion. Colors of red, white, blue, pink, and anything in the spectrum reflected certain emotions, like the shades of herself within the mirror.

Usually she paid these faux-celestial objects no heed, swooping to another section of her magical universe where a lonely rock orbited around a wide, beaming moon. There she would sit and gaze or wonder, while her shell was still rooted to a bed in Jump City.

Easily, she could spend hours upon hours here, entertain her thoughts, mull things over, invent new styles of fighting, wonder what her life would come to, now that her father did not control it.

However, she noticed a strange color illuminating from a particular star. It was not orange or vermillion, and it was not gray or black, but a mix of all four. Strangely, it appeared to be a sickening copper, or perhaps an infected drop of tainted blood.

Such tinting did not exist often, and when it did, it was never a good sign. Usual emotions consisted of red for anger and hate, green for belligerence, pink for love and happiness, and so on. Yet, it seemed overwhelmingly gray and reminded her of rusted cogs in an equally intimidating machine.

_Weird._

Swimming through the cosmic river of Styx, she snatched the twinkle up in her palm and peered closely at it, trying to gaze at the figure behind the spot. Yet, it oozed and swirled so thickly with shadow and disease that deciphering the person behind proved impossible.

This didn't mean she couldn't pop into his or her mind and figure it out.

It was, of course, a violation of her moral code to read the thoughts of others without their permission or knowledge. She hated those who invaded her privacy, how could she allow herself to do the same?

However, the apple was gleaming before her, picked from the forbidden tree, and even Raven wasn't immune to its sin.

_Maybe just a peek…_she thought, biting her lip, her eyes tracing over the many disgusting churns as they spun.

Her body that still floated in a dim room cringed, her hands clenched.

The palm that did not hold onto the bizarre light came forward, her finger reached out to it, about to connect to the intriguing source, to trace the path to a mystery.

"Raven!"

She almost screamed, caught completely off guard, her spiritual outline crashed back into her anatomy, and she fell clumsily back onto the sheets with a grunt.

"R-a-a-a-v-v-e-e-e-n-n!"

An all too familiar voice shot through the metal framework of her portal as well as a bundle of lazy thumps. Slapping her face with an irritated palm, she briskly flew off and came upon the door, flinging it open angrily.

"What?!" she snapped to Beast Boy, his fist in mid knock.

Quickly rubbing his fingers together sheepishly, he backed a step away and grinned.

"Well…um…me and…" he began, thoroughly entranced by his feet.

"No," she interrupted.

"But you didn't even know what I was gonna say!"

Crossing her arms, she raised an eyebrow, waiting for a foolish explanation.

Running a hand through his hair, he smirked again.

"Me and Cyborg were wondering if you…"

"BB! Did you get Raven yet?!" the robot-child called from down the hall.

His smile widening, clearly embarrassed he turned his head blissfully for a moment and screamed back:

"Hold on, dude! Sheesh!"

She rolled her eyes and shifted onto her other leg.

"Listen Beast Boy, now really isn't the time…"

"Oh c'mon, you've been in your room all day! Come chill with us," he offered.

Keeping her cynicism intact, she gave a quiet snort.

"That's all you wanted?"

"Heh…well that and… we were wondering if you would referee a game of Stank Ball?" he asked quickly, barely breathing in between words.

_Why am I not surprised?_

Yet, as she opened her mouth to tell him to get lost, and that there wasn't a chance of her ever doing such a thing, he interrupted her once again.

"Pl-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-a-s-e! Pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty…"

Having a change of heart, and not willing to have him screaming for her help for the next hour, for that surely would cause another irritating migraine, she heaved a groan.

"Fine."

It was all the answer he needed and he snatched onto her arm and sprinted down the lobby, giggling madly all the way up to the roof.

As they fitted her into a black and white striped cloak and set the parameters, Starfire and Robin watching jadedly, her mind was not on the embarrassment she was suffering or the stupidity coming her way, but the sickly star that had shimmered in her universe.


	2. Chapter 2

Wiping away the slime and grime of the match, Raven sauntered back to her dark room. She had put in the time, and now she _should _have no interruptions from a certain green boy.

The game had been disgusting, immature, and completely chaotic. Simply being within ten feet of the two boys flinging an oozing ball meant anyone and everything would be soaked. Starfire and Robin only had a fraction of what she was now covered in.

Stomping into the bathroom, she whisked her cloak away and twisted the knobs of the massive shower forcefully- almost too much, for she felt the metal pipe groan behind the wall.

After at least an hour of intense scrubbing and washing, she stepped out squeaky clean, the memories of the previous hours slipping into apathy. She breathed out a relaxed sigh and quickly sprinted across the hall, lest anyone catch her in the inappropriate attire of a towel.

If Beast Boy saw her…she'd never hear the end of it.

Her toes pressed nicely into the soft carpeting, trying to avoid the obscenely cold tile. A final leap and she was back to the safety of her bedroom.

Although the game had been traumatizing, it did not dissuade her from the fascinating star within her psyche. Every sharp whistle blown, every splatter of filth endured, yet she still saw it hanging in her mind's eye, taunting her to the core.

Why hadn't she seen it before? Who was behind the bizarre emotion? Could she really invade the brain of another? These questions had to be answered. She hadn't felt so much purpose in months, and she may have hated to admit it, but the lack of challenging crime or catastrophe was getting the best of her calm nerves as well.

_Just one look and then I'll never do it again. What's the worst that can happen?_

Changing in a flurry to her usual blue cloak and black leotard, she practically jumped onto her plush bed not even bothering to light all the candles or flick the used towel into the bin.

"Azeroth Metrion Zinthos," she hummed impatiently, her knee twitching up and down quickly. "Azeroth Metrion Zinthos."

Without any kind of satisfying lift, she was dragged up into her black universe.

"Finally," she spat to herself, her massive blues already scouring the night.

Swimming like an Olympian, she passed colored star after colored star. Her comfortable rock was still floating gently next to the exaggerated moon, and the twinkling of brilliant orbs swirled about her. But the one sparkle she truly wanted to see wasn't there amidst its brothers and sisters.

_Where is it?_

Paddling her way into a well sized group, she took a handful of stars into her hand and peered intently at their contents.

Nothing.

Her frustration was peaking, and she took a swipe at all the aggravatingly close sparks. Sighing, her disappointment began outweighing her anger.

This was going to be a discovery; something huge would have come of it. Perhaps it was a notorious villain on the rise, and she would be the first to encounter him. Or maybe some alien was calling for help, and they would have a fantastical mission.

_Maybe it would have been another lost…_

Before her sad thought could be completed, a light caught her eye. Hanging off in the apparent distance, a lonely, grinding star was oozing its way along.

The adrenaline and butterflies soared in her core and bones and, not fast enough, she shot off.

_I knew it would be here!_

Her fingers curled about the copper-colored twinkle immediately, and she felt a wave of relief shock through her. This strange feeling surprised her. Why relief? Obviously, the thing was working a strong spell upon her, was it so wise to interfere with it?

Her temptation said yes, and that was good enough for her.

Her palm closed around it and she shut her eyes, focusing her entirety to its low gravitational pull. It actually wasn't so hard, the little thing sucked her in immediately.

A pang of anxiety greeted her, but it was too late to coward out. Destinies were being rewired, and there was only one path to Oz; however, no yellow brick road or smiling group of little people welcomed her.

She may have access to the deep crevices of her own mind, but that didn't mean she was the only one with a separate universe. Every mind told a different story, and one could generally figure out a true personality from the atmosphere and surroundings.

This particular one was rather intimidating. Not unlike her own, it wasn't a peaceful valley or meadow, but a shadowy, freezing dimension. Three tunnels, only three tunnels marked the terrain. Swirling black engulfed her, and it felt like she was going to drown in spiritual tar. Each path was characterized by a faint symbol upon the burgundy, old brick arch.

Squinting at the bizarre markings, she realized they were the different phases of the moon, and that was certainly comforting to the gothic girl. The left passage had a crescent carved onto the shadowy stone, the middle one was equally split, and the right had a beaming full.

All were peculiar, but she merely decided to take her chances with the center tunnel. Drudging through the thick landscape, she took a step into the hole and was instantly yanked through.

Most minds were blunt, and it was easy judging a character, yet the one she was stuck in was complex and increasingly sinister. The more time she spent here, the more anxious she was becoming. What if she couldn't find her way back?

Stifling the gray cloak, she lifted her chin as she faced the second level.

Fortunately, it was a simple, black plain. Nothing, seemingly, complicated or riddled- no tunnels or ferries to pick; however, it was increasingly becoming more apparent that she was desperately alone. Pitch black, and without a soul in sight, her fears bubbled in her stomach until she gulped and squashed them down once more.

Lifting a brow, she supposed this strange place was a dead end. She must have picked the incorrect passage.

Crossing her arms, disappointment sung in her muscles and mind once more.

_All that…for nothing, _she thought sourly, breathing out a sudden huff.

The sound of her exhalation ringed throughout.

"Creepy," she commented to herself.

As if the vibration of the sound hadn't sent enough shivers down her spine, laughter soon joined. Her feet seemed to bury within the ground, frozen to its very roots, she didn't move.

One thing was for certain, the mind was that of a male. His short, throaty chuckle was evilly familiar, and his voice seemed to shake the very foundations of the universe.

Her mind told her to question and bark out her fears, face this terror head on, but her body would not compute, it remained still, unwavering, and paranoid. The strings of nerves tightened to snapping point, stretched until she imagined images and noises in the void.

All became quiet once more, but a presence was felt tugging at her senses.

"Did I scare you?"


	3. Chapter 3

"Who's there?!" Raven yelled into the thick fog of black beginning to waft about her. "Show yourself!"

Her demands were met; a figure was beginning to part the illusion of smoke. She focused her energy, shocking her powers into life, yet they did not respond. Before she could peer down at her hands, and wonder why her birth-given right failed, a chest was now only inches away.

She screamed and flew back, into the ground, for any levitation failed her. The mist was certainly airy, but gravity was increasingly heavy.

"My, Raven," this eerily recognizable voice commented, always making sure there wasn't but a foot between them. "I never took you for the easily frightened type."

_That voice…_she thought, straining her repressed memories for a clue. It had been so very long…

Daring to flick her eyes upward, she felt the need to almost convulse on the spot.

The boots…the steel engraved into a human figure…the unholy mask hovered like it always had.

"Slade!" she breathed out, pushing back onto her hands, scrambling away as best she could yet to no avail as he kept perfect pace with her. "Y-you…"

Clogged with dread and worry, the muscles in her throat choked as if squeezed by an imaginary collar of spikes and thorns. Had he always been so terrifying?

"Died?" he guessed, and shook his head. "I can't be killed that easily, Raven."

It had been too long, two years…he had…

"Disappeared?" he speculated once more, his weighted, metal boots clamping upon the hard, imaginary ground as she still crawled backwards, desperately trying to evade him. "Now that's just impractical, dear child."

The fog, the void, the cavern of ultimate black and darkness was doing wonders for his entrance into her fears. All it had taken was a mild chuckle, appearance, and sarcastic rambling and her body already shook with anxiety. Would this be too easy?

His quick boot finally snagged onto her clock, stopping her frantic escape.

He extended a hand to the girl upon the apparent ground… he was a gentleman after all. The purpose of this meeting was not to fight, but to instruct and prophesize, although he would not mind if diplomacy turned sour and he had to remind her of her weakened place.

She simply stared at his hand, expecting it to sprout devilish wings and fly away or turn into a beast and eat her alive. The tension grew with silence, his eye remained fixed upon hers, never wavering or even blinking.

His gloved hand levitated amidst the fog.

Feeling light headed, her head began to fall with swooning, but she stopped herself.

_I don't faint. _

What power had possessed her to be such a damsel in distress? This was just Slade, it was only natural he would return and contact her first, his revenge list was long, but not complex in the least.

Coming to her senses, she pushed his fingers away and stood on her own, placing her perfect, slender hands upon her hips standoffishly.

"What do you want, Slade?" she hissed, gaining new strength.

"That's more like it," he noted cryptically, his soft, high pitched voice slick and purring. "I was beginning to wonder if you had grown soft since my absence."

Rolling her eyes and blowing a violet hair out of her face, she glared in return. Yet, the game they played was not so easy, it was his move last, her turn now.

"Again, what do you want, Slade?" she repeated with an annoyed sigh, stifling the urge to dig her fingers into the side of her head.

"I'm so happy you asked," he responded teasingly, a lion playing with a mouse. "You see, Raven, I haven't forgotten you."

His mysterious statements were eroding her patience, but this was simply Slade. Sometimes he aggravated her more than Beast Boy.

_Sometimes…_

"Um, thanks?" she spat, placing her hands at her sides, allowing the illusionary cloak to cover her body religiously. "Do you want a card or something?"

"Ah, I did miss that sense of humor," he hummed lyrically. "But unfortunately, girl, I seek something else: a gift, better than a useless shred of decorated paper."

She wished she had a watch to glance at impatiently, but she merely tapped her foot. The smoke around the two swirled lazily, calmed by the presence of the master of the mind.

"Get on with it, Slade," she insisted, her voice neither rising nor lowering in monotone intrigue.

Placing his hands characteristically behind his back, he began to pace back and forth like a shark.

"I've given this some thought, Raven," he began dramatically, his cold eye still intertwined with hers. "As I said, I have not failed to recall our last meeting, it was glorious after all."

As he spoke, she simply remembered being thrown off a building with the burning red symbols etched into her skin, her demonic father trying to destroy her over and over again, and Slade being the hand that dragged her into hell. Glorious was certainly not the word for it.

"The raw power you possess is something I have never seen before," he complimented lowly, his footsteps trudging closer to the girl, her memories far from this place.

Only centimeters, it seemed, were between the two, her head remained low and unaware, still reeling from old wounds being ripped open.

"I'm sure you remember that night," he started, not even a human breath exited his mask. "Even I could see how weak your body was. Such a pity that so much potential was wasted on your frame."

His negative comment broke the euphoria-trance that bound her, and rage began to replace confusion.

This sudden shift in emotion manifested as a glare, a snarl imprinted upon her nose, the wrinkles carving deeply into her skin.

"Now, don't pout," he instructed, his split mask hiding an ever-growing grin. "Just because you're feeble doesn't mean you have to take it out on me, girl."

Obviously, she did not see herself that way, no one really did, but Slade always loved to poke fun at beings he deemed imperfect.

Huffing, she turned away from his face, his massive stature that stood right behind her. A poor fighting move, but she couldn't stand looking at him.

Her tolerance ebbing away by the second, she began thinking of ways out, this conversation was lasting far too long for her tastes.

"Well," she growled. "I promise to subscribe to a gym. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

"I'm afraid you can't leave just yet, child," he interrupted, the cat still toying with his food. "You'll miss the best part."

Being as that there was no neon sign declaring "Exit", she didn't have much of a choice. Not even turning back around to grace his presence, she simply waited for his melodramatic speech.

"As I was saying," his voice sung behind her, velvet smooth. "That lovely night…yes, I clearly remember it now. How fragile you were, but how strong your power was. I've never seen anything close to matching it, Raven."

His hints were blunt, but she didn't want to see them.

"Truthfully, you are a perfect candidate to be mine."

Shaking suddenly, the truth ripped open for all to see like sin, she twisted quickly.

"No!"

The fist aimed at his half colored mask came upon thick, shadow air.

_He was right behind me…_

"Too slow, Raven."

Before she could once again twirl to his new stance, a fist erupted through her torso. Crying in pain, she peered down when there was actually not a scratch or throb to speak of.

"What the…?"

"Stay on subject, dear girl," he lightly demanded, pulling the fist that was just in the middle of her body out and back to his side strictly. "I do not have time to embarrass you. Well, at least not in combat."

"Listen," she barked. "I will never-"

"Oh please," he once again cut in, his tone indicating annoyance. "Your hand to hand is much too unbearable to be any use to me. You may think you're invincible because you and your little friends defeated Trigon but, really, you are as hopeless as ever."

"Go f—"

"Language, Raven," he snapped. "Or I may have to cut out that tongue."

Raising an eyebrow, his interruptions were making her skin crawl with fury. If she had been able to use her powers, he would be a pile of dust at her feet.

"Then why are you here, Slade?!" she yelled, her fingers curled into tight fists, her very core shaking, exploding with almost tangible magma broiling.

Taking the last of the space between them up, his mask lowered down right in front of her face as her foot began to step back.

"But, Raven," he said lowly, evilly. "You came to me."


	4. Chapter 4

This place, this awful existence in an en even worse environment was getting to be too much.

Slade, his mask, his overwhelming sense of arrogance needed to be snuffed out like one of her candles. Trapped in this cage of shadow, she seemed to be dancing infinitely with the man, a waltz that never ceased, continuing until the ending of the world.

Every time she tried to investigate and solve this mystery he longed to have her trail, another clue led to another dead end of cryptic phrasing. How long had she been here? Was it even possible to get out?

It seemed she always had to answer puzzling questions, and when she did, it led her farther down the dark rabbit hole until she wasn't sure if she was Alice or the Mad-Hatter.

_It's obvious who the Red Queen is._ She thought grumpily, peering once again at his infuriatingly expressionless metal mask.

"Slade, I know you're a complete narcissistic psycho," she said as calmly as possible, trying desperately not to smirk. "But even you can't possibly think I came to _you._"

Completely unfazed by her remarks, he chuckled extremely lightly, almost too quiet for her to pick up on; however, she detected his sincere egotism just fine.

"Of course you did, dear child," he merely answered, his mask still awkwardly close to her face. "I'm the very reason you came here. Perhaps you did not know it, but you were _drawn _to me."

Although it was already painfully clear, she had almost forgotten that she had intentionally gotten herself ensnared. At first she had hoped that the mind of this strange person had set up a defense, or her mind was intertwining with the host.

Foolishly, idealistically, she had prayed this wasn't the mind of a notorious sociopath.

It was easy to see it was.

This was always her rotten luck.

"Let me go, Slade," she hissed, beginning another string of pleads he would easily ignore once more. "And we can both pretend this never happened."

Standing tall, he wheezed out another sickening giggle.

"Raven, what do I possibly have to lose from keeping you here?" he asked, and she imagined the foul creature behind the mask grinning at her weakness. "Your sense of authority is rather precious. But, then again, I would expect nothing less from a Titan. You all seem to want to grow up _so_ fast."

A low blow, but she did not waver, his hatred for teenage heroes was well-known and expected.

"Has it been hard?" he began again, another step, another sway to the intellectual dance, a move of a chess piece. "Being so alone?"

"I'm not…"

"Oh, I know you won't admit it. You're too proud," he cut in. "But, you cannot deny your unhappiness with the noble Titans."

"I'm perfectly happy!" she snapped, swiping her hand angrily.

His eye narrowed classically.

"Obviously not."

Groaning loudly, she simply turned around and began walking. Standing and talking to this illusion of Slade wasn't going to help her in any way.

As expected, he followed her, keeping an even pace.

"Get away…" she warned, his very presence, anything suggesting his existence made her want to scream.

"Or what?" he asked back. "I know your powers are gone."

Stopping on a dime, the terrain had not changed at all. Even the fog seemed identical everywhere she peered, anywhere she went.

"How did you-?"

"It's my mind, Raven. My rules," he answered.

It hit her then. Yes, he had been toying with her constantly, every second, but he was dropping clues and hints in every sentence. She simply had to ask the correct question.

_He's like a demented genie or something…_she grumbled in her mind.

What did she know so far?

He intentionally wanted her here.

"How did you know I would notice the star?" she wondered, raising a brow, even beneath her illusionary hood.

A hand placed neatly on her hip, the other remained at her side, and his eye never broke contact.

"You may hate to admit, girl, but you and I share many qualities," he said, even though such a fact seemed to spike her heart. "We both despise the world, and that is why I knew you would take an interest in such…coloration."

The smoke seemed to dissipate.

He wants her to be his.

"Why me?" she asked softly, yet still meeting his gaze head on. "Why not Robin?"

Surprisingly, he was taken off guard by her straight forwardness; he hadn't expected her to finally resign to his desires.

"Because," he began, the subtle smile beneath his mask growing as he went about dealing a death blow to her confidence. "Robin isn't a woman."

Here she thought he was going to say that it was because of her power, or maybe even her dark side, but no, it was because she was female. Keeping tabs with this man was becoming increasingly more difficult, and sinister.

"What does that have to do with anything?!" she practically screamed, it wasn't the answer she had expected by a long shot.

"It has everything to do with this."

She shook her head several times; the look of complete shock hadn't left her features. Even though her hood and this place kept her in mysterious shadow, Slade smirked at how easy she was to stir, and how unstable her emotions, and her powers, were.

_That's not like Slade…this is all wrong!_

"No…no, you want me because of my magic!" she accused, clearly still in disbelief and turmoil.

Now it was plain his work was done.

His eye shimmered coldly, below freezing.

The landscape altered. No longer were there shadows or darkness, but ice. They stood upon a massive cliff, thousands of feet above a crashing, black wave. Snow bit at her cheeks, the frozen air whipped around, and her cloak was mangled about in the howling gales.

She fell, crumpled by the reality of temperature. Slade stood perfectly still, unaffected by the atmosphere.

"Your power is amusing, a side benefit, but is not needed," his voice seemed to sing and was heard perfectly.

Her limbs were growing number every second she spent in this ring of Hell, and she breathed out in painful gasps. It had only been seconds, if that, and her body already seemed to shut down in the density of bitter cold.

He wasn't ready to free her, not yet, at least. His enjoyment in the pain of others stayed his action; he would watch her suffer another moment or two.

Although her vision was blurry and watery, his mask, and eye, pierced through the weather. His body seemed to be above such trivial things as nature, while she was anchored to the temper of storms. Simply to keep herself warm, she tried desperately to wrap her cloak and arms about her. In this feat of survival, Slade found a glaring opportunity.

Reaching, he picked the girl up by the hood.

"I will come for you," he prophesized, whispering in her blue ear as she shivered dangerously. "There is nothing you can do to stop it. Know that you are now marked to be mine."

His other hand moved and shifted, but she could not feel a thing or understand a movement, hoping this would be the end of the torment he had made her endure.

"Happy trails."

Moving the hand that held her, he threw her off the cliff and into the blackening waves.


	5. Chapter 5

The last sight was of the black figure of Slade growing smaller and smaller as she came closer and closer to the threatening waves. Not a scream or choke escaped her frozen, blue lips. Falling like demons fell- she crashed into jagged rocks and icebergs below.

The crack of her body breaking against stone was heard but not felt. Life evaded, turning obsidian and then diamond. Color ceased to exist and then was reborn as her bedroom.

A girl, a weak young woman sat sweating and panting upon her thick comforter. Her fingers clutched the blankets in a tight grip, the knuckles pale and red all in the same, her skin quivering and quaking until it seemed her entire body was just a vibration of his laughter.

It rang, sung, and sprung all around her, bounding off the walls of her skull and memories.

"_Happy trails" _it screamed to her, deafening ear drums, snapping the skin of the base in half, breaking the ties that bind, until all she was left with was a pair of broken sticks and no instrument to beat.

It was at that point that her voice was granted back, and she unleashed the screech of sirens and roars of dying animals- a banshee wail that howled like no wolf or human in existence.

Her vision blocked by extreme emotion, her room began exploding and tearing itself apart as the box of horrors creaked open for the first time in two decades. Candles evaporated, churned into dust were her beloved spell books, and any mirror was shattered at the weight of sound.

Levitating, as if possessed and being exorcised all in one, her friends ran into the room seconds later, staring in amazement at their once-controlled friend. Eyes blaring light unequal to any star or celestial object in the universe, she was supernaturally beautiful and terrifying, sublime.

Yet, this sorceress of despair was taken down by a simple injection into her thigh, supplied by the concerned hand of Cyborg. Her constant cry began to slow and devolve into rumblings until not even a whisper escaped her bleeding lips.

Beast Boy, who had been covering his sensitive ears and eyes, cautiously released the palms of his hands from the sides of his face, and peered in confusion at the pale girl who sat in the wreckage of her own power. Sometimes he forgot how truly magnificent she was, but he always remembered her incredible danger.

"Dudes, what's with her?" he questioned gently, peering over Cyborg and Robin's shoulders as they knelt down around the blue cloaked girl.

"I have no idea…" Robin mumbled out, his jade gloves wiped away any stray hairs from her face with great tenderness and care.

Cyborg, on the other hand put a round of needles into her skin and took the data he needed while she was in a calm state.

The robot teen then picked the slumbering Empath up in his muscular, mechanical arms and walked out the door, clearly they would have to find answers later, after she was more secured.

Starfire let out little gasps of awe and terror at the destruction of the room. Glass and paper corpses still fell in a magical breeze like victims of plane crashes. Robin snatched an ember in his fingers and peered more closely, trying to find an unimaginable answer in rubble.

His glare was so concentrated and filled with such worry that Starfire was not sure whether to inform him she was leaving and that the others had long since passed. Yet, on cue, he swiftly turned and strode out, the drive to find a solution already branded into his psyche.

* * *

Opening with a flutter of long, black lashes, the pale girl awoke in a strange place, memories avoiding her. A heart monitor hummed softly in the background and as she began shifting and groaning from stiffness, an IV was stubbornly hooked into her vein, keeping her tethered.

Glancing at it and then letting her head fall deep into the hard pillow, she decided answers would come to her, eventually.

Sleep came once more; this stressed awakening had already tired her weary mind and body out.

"_Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary…"_

Echoing black and red, sparkling bridges of which ravens hang over protectively, she stumbled into dream world, a bleak and rushed atmosphere. Perhaps she had been wishing to contact her inner emotions, and the mirror had let her in.

"Go back," the birds crowed aggressively.

"But it's my mind!" she argued.

"Go back. Go back."

Ravenously, they swished down and snapped at her heels with razor sharp teeth and talons. Feet drowned in cement, they ate her alive until her entire world was shadow.

The darkness was consumed by another swirl of color. Until the vision of her nightmare was split, half and half.

At this, she sat up in bed and began screaming.

"Raven! Raven!"

Birds of a feather, Robin snatched her hand in his and rubbed it with his thumb in concern.

Awareness was a painful poke, but her thoughts cleared at the sensation of a familiar touch, and she peered slowly at the covered fingers of her friend.

Throat dry, dehydrated, she closed it and quieted.

"Robin?" she asked in a daze, not looking exactly at the boy.

"I'm here, Raven, you're ok."

Calming, beginning to realize this predicament, she whipped her hand out of his and glared her usual sarcastic one.

"Of course I am," she replied shortly.

Clarity granted its presence once more, and her vision now saw the teen in front of her. The usual jet black and spiky head, the domino mask, and encircled 'R' were now all too banal. His smile, though, was not.

"What are you smirking at?" she grumbled laying back down into the mattress with a thud.

He shook his head, relief stricken across his face.

"Anything I can get you?" he asked after a few moments, a new reason to worry.

"I can take care of myself, Robin."

He simply nodded, playing along.

"Well, if you need anything, I'm here."

"Some answers would be nice," she commented as he began to walk out.

Her eyes drilled into his face.

"I could almost ask the same from you."

She raised a brow, and grimaced.

"What do you mean?"

Sighing, he came back to her side and sat. The bed groaned to the new weight.

"Well, you kind of destroyed your room."

"I know," she admitted, swallowing.

"So you remember?"

It was her turn to exhale sourly, and she crossed her arms awkwardly, the IV still tugging at her wrist.

"Just because I had a…incident," she began, her expression becoming bitterer by the second. "Doesn't mean I'm a loony or have Alzheimer's, Robin."

"I only assumed…"

"That what?" she snapped. "That I lost it? I know you guys all think I'm destined for the asylum but, guess what? I'm still sane."

"Raven, I wasn't implying…"

"Of course you were," she huffed. "Why is it every time something happens to me all of you jump on the psycho-bandwagon?! But when Beast Boy…"

"Raven, enough."

Her arms high in the air out of grizzled protest, she lowered them at Robin's hard stare of authority. Their eyes held each other's gaze for a moment more, trying to win the superiority contest. Her anger was still on the rise, while his personality was cool and collected. In frustration, she lifted a finger, and a glass shattered instantly in response.

"Raven!" Robin finally broke. "What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing," she hissed. "I'm fine."

"Obviously not."

Her eyes widened and her expression softened to the point of guilty child or broken slave. The familiarity of that assertion was too tender of a wound to reopen, but it did, and began bleeding.

"What did you say?" she practically whispered.

Seeing as that her emotions were clearly not in control, Robin chose his words extremely carefully, lest she ruin the hospital ward, too.

"I just think you're a little stressed out. Maybe some tea or meditation…"

"No!" she yelled, and the objects of the clinic lifted an inch into the air.

"Easy, easy…" he soothed, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I'm not an enemy, Rae."

A loose breath escaped, and the items returned to gravity. She took a few more cycles of inhalation and exhalation before finally facing Robin again.

"I know, I know…" she sighed.

"What's wrong?"

Giving a slight snarl, she retracted rage from her system and tried to remain monotone and stable.

"I just…" she started, a twisted knot forming in her stomach. "Haven't been getting much sleep."

The bond they shared spoke differently.

"It's more than that, and you know it," he said, worry still etched into his features. "Our link tells me you're holding out."

"Well, maybe you should stay out," she barked.

"Rae, this isn't the first time…"

"You don't think I know that?" she blazed. "Why do you keep assuming I don't keep a track record?"

Another stone stare let her know she was losing control again.

"Sorry," she muttered under her breath. "It's just that…God, I don't know. It's all really screwed up."

"Then tell me. Let me help you, Rae."

Biting her scabbed lips, she took a gander at perhaps her closest friend. He hadn't led her astray thus far, what if he could help?

"Ok…ok…" she started, breathing in and out; she took many more glances at his familiar face.

Remembering his issues with Slade, but also his incessant and suspicious worrying of her made her change her mind. Fortunately, or not so fortunately, a throbbing resonated from her spine, and her breath sucked sharply in.

"Rae? What's wrong?" Robin asked, his voice peaking with even more anxiety.

"My back…" she managed to spit out, her bones and muscles tightening with each wave of radiating pain.

Seeing the beads of sweat beginning to sprout, and the shaking of her limbs, Robin rushed to snatch a pair a scissors as well as call Cyborg.

The hospital gown was snipped open to expose her bare back. As the cloth fell away symmetrically, he gasped and dropped the steel cutters. Running, he went to the entrance of the ward and yelled to all the Titans, the panic in his voice escalating with each collapse of the lungs.

Etched perfectly, artistically, and massively into her white flesh was a shimmering, silver letter 'S'.


	6. Chapter 6

She felt like a dissected insect under a microscope.

After Robin saw the obvious mark of Slade on her back, the infamous zigzagging 'S' glimmering a steel silver, he freaked, as expected. When the others arrived to see what all the noise was about, Robin simply pointed at Raven as if she were some kind of creature.

Even though it was her back that was aching and throbbing as if it were burning her flesh, the Titans were more concerned with the symbol instead of its effects.

"Guys…guys!" she yelled, trying to get their attention while she lay uncomfortably on her belly for the longest time. "I need to get up."

"Rae, we're still not sure…" countered Cyborg, scraping a skin particle from her as he spoke.

"Now."

Instead of enduring the wrath of the witch, they gave her a foot of space and she pleasantly, or rather unpleasantly, groaned her way up to a seated position. They had been sampling and observing the new markings for more than several hours, and she needed a break.

Awkwardly pushing her severed hospital gown into a place where no one would be able to get a free glimpse, she raised a serious brow at her frazzled teammates.

Starfire kept her eyes low and tried to blend in, Cyborg remained at the scanners switching new materials in and out of testing, Beast Boy, for once, wasn't speaking or cracking any jokes but simply sat asleep in a chair, and Robin…

Well, he was there, but not really. He kept close to Cyborg, having to be involved in anything Slade-related; however, she could sense his mind was far away from any test tubes, beakers, or samples, but more on his anxiety over another teammate being subjected to the criminal's horror.

Surprisingly enough, though, they hadn't interrogated her about how she thought she obtained the strange tattoo, and simply threw themselves into chemistry and lab work in trying to resolve the situation.

_Maybe they won't even ask…_

"Raven," Robin spoke distantly. "Have any idea where you got this?"

_I spoke too soon._

Sighing, her objective was now a total failure.

"No."

He came away from the busy Cyborg's side and stood stoically next to her, arms crossed.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Obviously, he wasn't buying it, and she didn't expect him to. How could she tell him?

He nodded superficially, and went back to help the robot teen. That conversation was far from over, but she needed time to prepare herself. At some point, the truth would have to come out, it always did. It didn't stop her, though, from procrastination.

A loud buzz of a monitor interrupted her worries and the team, save Beast Boy, all peered at it, expecting it to reveal a magical cure to all their problems.

Slowly, a long sheet of paper exited a slit in the machine, to which Cyborg snatched it up, and carefully read the results.

Not speaking, he looked up and went across the room to a file that lay open- apparently, he had a connection in mind. Flipping through the analytical slips until he found the one he was looking for, he then compared the two notations.

After no breathing or shared glances, he peered up, dropping the heavy manila envelope as he did.

_That's not good._ She thought as the white sheets of tree collapsed upon the ground with an uncomfortable thud.

No one dared pick the thing up, but it did startle the green changeling awake.

"Hey! What the…?" he muttered loudly, drool hanging at the corner of his mouth.

When he saw the intensity and tension resonating through the room, he soon went quiet, his emerald eyes scanning the scattering of paper and the stiff stance of his usually jolly friend.

After what seemed like an eternity, Cyborg quickly turned to Robin and motioned for him to follow.

Although the moment was of upmost seriousness, Raven still rolled her eyes.

Their muffled voices were heard but not comprehended. Both were whispering at first, but after Cyborg dealt the bad news, Robin started yelling. Moments later, the door slammed open, making all three jump.

The boy wonder said nothing, he simply gave Raven a deep stare filled with hurt. Pushing his way lightly passed, Cyborg came into to explain what had happened, everyone should know.

Their shadows grew in length as they day went on, now they were twice the height of one another, all circled and clustered around her like beasts hiding in a forest where she was now intruding.

"What's goin' on?" Beast Boy squeaked.

Cyborg's mechanical fingers scratched the back of his head in embarrassment, but it was clear he would do most of the talking, their leader was dead set on being mute- his gloved hand still gripped the edge of the door with severity.

"Well…" the robotic teen began explaining, his gaze landing on her. "It's not good news."

"Please, any information would be most beneficial at this hour," comforted Starfire, motioning kindly for him to continue.

Nodding, he once again turned to the task at hand.

"I ran the components of the...the..." he paused. "...thing, and tried to find any matches to its basic molecular level," he said, losing Beast Boy already. "And there was nothing. There's nothing like it, not on Earth at least…"

"I do not understand," the scarlet-headed alien commented. "Does that mean I am to blame? I am not from this planet, after all."

"No, no," Cyborg assured, raising his hands in a peaceful manner. "But, that doesn't mean one of us isn't to blame necessarily…" he trailed off, rubbing his skull with more emphasis.

Sucking in a breath, she was ready to ask the question no one wanted to hear.

"Raven," the once silent leader broke in, all their faces immediately snapping up to meet his look of stone. "It's a direct match to the composition of your energy."

"Wait, does that mean…?" the changeling questioned.

"Whatever did this…"

"_Who_ever is more like it…" Robin grumbled under his breath, breaking Cyborg's train of thought, but she didn't need to hear the rest.

Breathing and living became exponentially more painful. The conclusion of this study was horrible and terrifying, but instead of face it head on, she turned her attention to a certain spiky-haired prick.

"What's your problem?" she hissed, not liking his attitude toward her ever since he came in. "You're acting like this was my fault."

Flicking his attention to her for a split second, she understood.

"No," she said, slightly shocked and definitely pissed. "You _know_ it's my fault."

"I never said…"

"Didn't have to," she snapped.

This time, he wasn't going to let her tread all over him, not when it came to the protection of his team, not when it came to Slade.

"Well, what if it is?" he bristled back, his mask crumpling in a glare. "The evidence is concrete, how else could it have happened?"

"Oh I don't know, Robin," she said, her voice raising an octave from its usual monotone. "Maybe Slade…"

"Did what?" he cut in, the very mention of his eternal enemy enough to send him into a quiver of fury. "Somehow became a wizard? No, I don't think so."

"Well what _do_ you think, fearless leader?" she sarcastically replied.

"I think you need to take a rest... a vacation. The longer- the better."

Going slack-jawed for the briefest of seconds, she stitched her lips back together in a menacing grimace. He was practically demoting her to sidekick, or worse…

"Just because you run this team…" she argued.

"Means that I can decide who's here and who's not," he finished, unplugging his hand from the side of the wood door and crossing it over the other tightly. "Raven, I'm only looking out for your best interest."

She had most certainly heard that one before.

"By benching me? Like that will help…"

"It will, trust me," the experience of haunted memories flashed quickly through his face.

They both gave one another long, hard stares, their spirits and selves waging war. Although her passion and deep emotions called for rebuttal, her reason and logic suggested that perhaps he was right.

He only asked of her the same thing she had asked of him so many times when Slade was added to the equation.

This was different. He wasn't after destroying her, hopefully, or cracking some hare-brained scheme just for the fun of it. This was serious and complex. His need of her seemed to be tribal and came to the basics of biology. Simple gender roles, and it was perhaps his most wicked plan yet.

As someone who expected mysteries of extreme ambiguity and contradicting, it was most unsettling to her. Regular villains were supposed to be after money or weapons or something like that. With the masked psychopath, everything was topsy turvy.

Slade wasn't a "normal" criminal.

The fact that he regressed to something so trivial is what really gave her goosebumps.

Finally, she nodded, the thought of the split-masked man throwing her off a cliff beginning to get under her skin. Signing her fate in blood and handing him the ribbon-tied parchment of treaty, she slumped her shoulders.

"Fine," she snipped, folding her arms in front of her chest petulantly. "I'll sit it out for a while."

The entire room exhaled in extreme relief. Now it could be certain their friend was safe from harm's way, well, at least until they figured out what Slade's angle was.

Unfortunately, his plan was already etched into her skin.


	7. Chapter 7

Deep within the crevices of the Earth, a man sat upon a stone throne, a single light focused center stage amidst churning cogs.

Eye shut firmly, he became immersed in his intentions.

The girl knew of her destiny. Unlike his first, she would not be left alone to escape. The Titans had not been shown his worst side yet. Obsession and need for an end to all things, he let his warped mind run wild with new imagination.

Similar in design, his schemes always involved an essence of corruption. This time was no different, but it was, in effect. He had never truly lusted over someone as peculiar as her.

There was Terra, but how positively weak she was, through and through. Her training was riddled with failure, hidden in the text, to which he refused to acknowledge. Letting her believe it was for good, believe that she would be as strong as him became the ultimate problem.

It was done, yes. Going it over, it seemed he got the better conclusion. After all, who was suffocated in stone, and who was alive?

He would have to thank her.

But, then, he already did.

Now, it was time to move on- something old and something new taken from the archives of his memories, and how perfectly it was beginning to unfold, this plan.

Shivering suddenly, it was a signal his body gave him now and again. More frequently, however, it was beginning to interrupt his meditations, but he never minded it, really. It was, of course, the perfect opportunity for some fun.

Eye blaring open like the reawakening of a beast, or the call of judgment day, he quickly stood and stepped down the two steps of cement. One wall, covered in monitors of different people, he searched for one in particular.

"Now where did I…?" he asked himself, his own voice ringing off the lonely rocks. "Oh, yes. There you are."

Leaning over, he peered more intently at a shining screen. A figure, face hidden, dared not move.

"Come on," he chanted silently. "Do it."

As if aware of his instruction, this tiny speck of black inched ever so slightly to the right.

He loved getting his way.

Thumb smashing down upon a button below the monitor, he cleared his throat.

"You know better, Sarah."

His index crawled slowly to another trigger beside where his thumb was arched, and he gently pressed it with the smallest amount of pressure, adrenaline began to course out of the currents of his mind.

A whimper was heard singing through the caverns.

Fully removing his thumb, he now put more and more weight upon the activation, a smirk evolving into grin underneath the splits of his mask.

Screams of a woman now rang like church bells all around him.

The shivering of his toes and shoulders halted, his entire body listened to the music of pain. It grew louder and louder, until all he could hear and feel was her constant struggle for life. Too much, too much, he decided this candy set before his eye was all too tasty to pass up on.

He dug his nail further into it until the muscles in his finger hurt from too much force, the plastic circle completely engulfed in its electrical socket. The tiny speck now vibrated.

Yells, cries, screeching, he did not care at all. No audible speech or language spoken, only the simple, the banal, the vibrations of lungs and throat conflicted into one horrifying howl.

This one lasted for a good long time, longer than most, actually, until it ceased.

That was the best part. The massive cry and exhalation of extreme noise hitting a brick wall of death and never to exist again, it was beautiful. Taking the last chocolate from the last box, it tasted the sweetest, and was always sucked on the longest.

His aching finger was finally released from its hold, and he breathed out one content sigh.

The trembling of his blood also halted, for the time being, and his head was cleared.

Only a matter of time, and she would put up the best fight, the one to end all the others.

* * *

Nightmares had riddled her already crowded mind.

How could she meditate, now that her entire sanctum was a trap, metal and rigged with spikes with an appealing carrot placed right in the center for her furry foot to step into and be caught and left for dead?

No, never again.

Unfortunately, this new resolve would be difficult. Meditation had always been there for her, even when the world ended. At least Trigon left her alone for the majority of its duration. With Slade there, who knew what else he could trick her into?

Like Robin said, she should sit this one out.

Boredom, however, told her differently.

Cyborg had been in and out almost every hour on the hour, running for tests, which at first she hated; however, when it became apparent she would have to spend a couple more days in the hospital ward until she would be medically cleared, or at least until Robin felt better, she started enjoying the company of others more and more.

Yet, this left her with almost an entire day's worth of thinking.

With a massive, silver 'S' tattooed to her back, it wasn't hard deciphering just what she was mulling over.

The conversation she had with him was repeated in her mind countless times, his familiar, egotistical phrasings and tone branded, like her skin, into her sub cranium.

Yet their dialogue, in its entirety, wasn't of huge concern, but snippets. Little sentences with gigantic meanings and worst fears laced in every syllable and word sputtered from his hidden mouth, but recognized in his foul eye.

"_Robin isn't a woman."_

That was one she certainly came back to time and time again. The thought of him actually saying it made her blood run cold. Hell, anyone saying that would make her freak.

The implication he made left her with two very grotesque options to which she was not going to entertain, not yet, while she was safe, at least.

Remembering, she noticed how much a pervert the man really was. How sick, demented, infuriating, arrogant, shallow, crazy, insane, dark, perplexing…there weren't really enough adjectives she could use to describe him.

Funny thing was, about half the words she conjured fit her as well.

It wasn't the first time she noticed their similarities. It wasn't the only time she compared herself to any villain they faced. An odd man out, it seemed she played for the wrong team.

Dark, brooding nature and a hellish attitude to boot, it was no wonder she always felt so alone.

But, she didn't need anyone.

She could take this fight, with or without her friends, she had done it before. Facing her fears, conquering her worst enemies, and solving any mess, and all of it was on her own.

Epiphany, she realized that sitting in this bed wasn't helping anyone.

Her friends knew nothing about what he was really up to, and telling them would only make her situation worse, make them more concerned, and then they were all bound to be wrapped up and sent to Slade's doorstep, perfectly packaged and handled.

What they needed, what she needed, was a boost, a catalyst. Like a stalemate, both sides were getting nowhere, and the only way this war ended was with a big bomb marked "See ya Slade!" Running away, letting go, was never her thing. So why start now?

Rebellion and intrigue beginning to bolster through her system, she almost wished that Robin found a breakthrough or the alarm went off so she could get back in the action.

But with the dry spell of crime and Robin's acute unawareness of what was really going on, neither was going to happen any time soon.

Throwing the covers away from her in frustration, she snatched the IV out of her forearm and gently pressed her bare toes against the ungodly cold tile floor. Quickly, before she obtained frostbite, she sprinted to the bath room to get a better look at this mark Slade had implanted on her.

Only through mirrors and descriptions was she able to get the gist, that and the constant radiating of ache sprouting from it like a nasty welt or bruise.

Spinning her back to the reflection and neatly untying the strings of her blandly white gown, she twisted her head around to get a better look.

A low whistle and a gasp escaped as she unfurled more and more cloth.

"What a sick-o," she muttered.

Her friends had aptly described it. Long, twisting, and sharp, it was a quintessential Slade 'S'. The only difference was that it stretched from her shoulder blades to the lower vertebrae, always noticeable.

That she had been prepared for, Cyborg had told her of its extreme size.

What surprised her were the additions.

Sparkling like the brightest and most expensive silver, it almost hurt her eyes to gaze at it. The tips of the letter also seemed to drop off and form small pools exactly on her shoulder blade and directly behind her hip. Upon closer inspection, she realized that this puddle of twinkling was simply more letter S's, cluttered together to seem like a unified speck.

What was worse, is that the main contributor to the little ones was growing dimmer. It still sparkled and glimmered, but even in the few minutes she sat observing it, the coloring faded.

Somehow not mad or angry, but intrigued and mystified he had been able to do such a thing, she than began to wonder if she had really seen him.

First hand, she was a witness to the power of insanity, how much damage it could do to the body and soul. She was beginning to doubt her pride, and her stability.

* * *

_"Hurry young Titans."_

_"You've gotten soft."_

_"I can understand your frustration…"_

_"You and I are so very much alike."_

The mask grew heavier, the burden more weighted and lost to anger as the time passed. Leaning over a table completely covered in hard evidence, a single light bulb swinging in and out of shadow, the boy wonder sat stumped.

Or rather stood.

Standing for hours, more than hours, but days, more than days, but years stretching into infinite time, he had found it, but could not follow the trail without hitting dead ends.

His implanted father had one.

A white, painted face of complete and utter insanity briefly skated across his mind.

How different his had turned out to be.

Peering quickly at the wall, a trophy hung, goading him.

_"Who knows, maybe I'll be like a father to you."_

Why was it every time he left, seemed to be dead or gone, he came back? Worse than ever. With this monster, this man, Robin simply did not understand the complexity of humanity.

Raven, she was in danger. Did she even know? Did she even care? From her jaded and bitter demeanor he couldn't really answer either question.

The bond told a different story.

It revealed her insecurity, instability, and incomprehensible loneliness.

He couldn't think like that.

No, she was in trouble, more than that, she was marked for death. Literally.

Then why couldn't he be there for her? What stopped him from rushing and staying by her side until the end? She had done the same when he needed it. Guilt set in for the spiky-haired lad, and he almost turned around to carry out such a deed for a close friend.

Almost.

Keeping him tethered to the drawing board was Slade. It was always Slade. No matter how hard he tried, how much he fought, forgot, and forgave, this beast, this mask, haunted every footstep.

Now, it was threatening to tear his team apart. Blame and distrust blurred his sensibility, but doubt and reason claimed otherwise.

The particles were Raven's. The marking originated from her same energy.

She said she didn't have a clue.

She was lying.

_"Attack, Robin. It's the only way to save them."_


	8. Chapter 8

"Raven."

Robin poked his head in through the panels timidly. Numerous apologies rapidly flicked through his mind as he decided their standoff wasn't worth wrecking the team; however, when he finally arrived at the doors to the hospital ward, taking a deep breath before entering, no answer responded to his light knocks.

Now, he was awkwardly standing half way in and out of the room. Thankfully, Raven wasn't there to ridicule his strange stature.

In fact, he did not see the gloomy Empath anywhere.

Taking this as a welcome sign to enter, he plunged his feet in, lightly tip-toeing, eyes peeled for anything.

Unfortunately, this also came back to bite him when his gaze finally found her.

Standing, half naked, on a stool and trying to shift her glance as her back remained turned to the mirror, Robin didn't know what surprised him more.

The fact he actually found himself longing to keep staring without her notice,

Or

That the hated tattoo was somehow spreading across her skin.

Once again, he found himself in quite the predicament.

His mouth opened and a tiny, infinitesimal sound escaped as he first saw the mark and its nefarious expansion, even though he knew that any gasp or peep out of him would of course alert her to his presence.

It did, and slowly, like a train wreck, her hardened stare was not set upon her reflection, but now turned to him.

If this was a fight, he would have ducked and rolled for the fire in her eyes was quickly approaching, threatening to disintegrate.

She was heavily considering it.

"Robin…" she growled with more malice than a bloodthirsty wolf as she immediately covered herself. "Get. Out."

Any other day, any other time, he would have obeyed without protest.

Idiotically, he remained standing right in her warpath, the shock of the moment rooting him into the ground.

Face collapsed into a snarl of infinite anger, she charged. First tying her gown tightly back, she then snapped her elegant fingers at him.

Without any muscle flex, he moved, thrown aside by her anger and black energy. It engulfed his chest and moments later he was back in the hallway. Only this time he was flat on his back, the door shut firmly in front of him.

"Sorry," he mumbled inaudibly before pushing himself up and sauntering back the way he came, apologizing for any earlier event whisked clear out of his brain.

Hearing his light footsteps clunk away, she sagged down against the door, sighing in harsh relief.

_Who did he think he was? _She thought as her face returned to its normal monotone. _Coming in and…_ she breathed in. _Watching…What a prick!_

Crossing her arms as she sat on the frigid tile, she glanced around the room in a huff. The ward, the constant watch of her teammates, and the irritating mark were corroding her patience, making it nearly impossible for her to stand the sight of them.

She needed a break. Robin had suggested it, and maybe he was right. Even though at that moment she wanted to shoot and stuff the pigeon boy, he did give…tolerable advice.

Rubbing her temples and unclenching her stiff jaw, she ran through some ideas. Meditating or anything magical seemed to be out of the question, now that Slade was making a playground out of her mind.

Peering at the window suddenly, she raised a brow as the sunlight streamed blissfully in.

_Would they mind if I stepped out for a while?_

Musing over the new idea, it was out of the question, but so tempting. Crammed in this room all day, no news, no tea, no friends, although the latter may have been for the best, she shuddered as she contemplated that Beast Boy could have easily been the peeping Thomas.

Her edgier side screamed for her to ditch them all, they had made her soft by keeping her cooped up for so long. Hours crept slowly, but the days blurred into one another. Fresh air would do her good.

Timidity patiently sighed for her to remain and stay until everything was figured out. Besides, sunshine was overrated.

Tugging on her lip with her front teeth, she peered around expecting someone to surprise her again.

Finally, the warring in her head ceased, and a green cloak of belligerence emerged victorious, not surprisingly.

_5 minutes and I'll come straight back._

Quickly snatching her normal clothes from the back of a chair, she changed, and without any regrets, flung open the glaring glass panel and jumped.

The breeze of a summer day greeted her skin, and she closed her eyes in bliss. Blue cloth swirling around her body, she spread her black-as-night wings and skated across the sky.

Deep down she was really a free soul, one that always needed to explode out of her monotone shell at some point or another. She only wished the urge to be unchained came at a better time, one that was not so bleak and terrifying.

Like it or not, Slade was the personification of a nightmare. Where he treaded, doom followed. Always leaving a scar, even if it wasn't on her back- like a carbon footprint, it spread and corrupted, fouled every pure and righteous thing in its path.

Now, it was threatening to dissolve her, disintegrate everything that made her stereotypically "good". After all, who would be the easiest to taint? Who was already born with bad intentions?

The simplicity of this epiphany was lost on her carefree mind at the time, all she knew and felt was the warm wind flicking her hair in front of her face and pulling it back like the tides under a full moon.

"Raven?" a familiar voice called through the shut panels. "Look, I'm sorry…"

Robin knocked as light as he could, wondering if the hours she had spent in her room had let her cool down and regroup. Guilt and embarrassment brought out the red in his pale cheeks; he tapped the steel door again.

No response sounded, and his anxiety began to rise in his stomach. Was she asleep?

He began to turn away, poking an angry bear once was bad enough, he wasn't sure if he could handle tempting the fates by jabbing her again.

One step and he instead whirled around; stifling the voice of reason down and yanking open the pane decisively. The boy never did learn when to let a problem sit.

"Ok, look, I just wanted to sa-" he began again, but was cut off by anger, confusion, and ultimately apprehension collapsing the walls in his throat.

Gone.

She was gone. The bed was empty, the bathroom teasingly silent, and the curtain that hung above the window was fluttering suspiciously in a simple, summer draft.


	9. Chapter 9

Robin was going to kill her.

Clenching and unclenching his fists in superficial anger, he turned on a heel and began sprinting toward the lounge where the rest of the team lurked.

Where had the time gone?

Raven had been outside, flying, levitating; doing whatever made her feel relaxed. No crime bosses thwarted her peaceful outing, no pesky teens or children whined for her autograph or gasped at her presence, and no Robin intruded on her at any point.

It was as if she was a ghost floating throughout the city, never taking any notice and not giving any in return.

Hours had passed, the sun was starting to nestle back into the grove of darkness where it slumbered, awakening a new form of life in the town. Bright, faux-lights, sulking shadows, and an overwhelming sense of anticipated dread began to weed out the innocence of day.

This was most certainly where she belonged.

For no reason other than the thrill in the air, adrenaline coursed through her veins, sparking her apathy into dangerous feelings of risk-taking.

What new dangers awaited her in the middle of the night?

Slade was thinking a rather similar thought.

It was only a matter of time before the girl slipped up. Her naivety would soon cost her something irreplaceable.

He couldn't wait.

The monitors in front of the vicious man hummed an alert. Snapping his eye open, he briskly sat forward in his stone throne, and leaned in, his one pupil dancing from left to right, up and down as he took in the information newly presented.

Realizing what the screen was delivering, he coughed a silent chuckle from the deep crevices of his throat and cracked an unwavering, cruel smile beneath the metal mask.

Feeling lucky, for it seemed tonight was certainly a win for him, he stood up and sauntered methodically out of the cavern, the one light shutting off as he ascended.

"Raven!" a scratchy, awfully familiar voice beeped from her belt. "Come in, Raven!"

She had been ignoring the petty cries of her friend for the last ten minutes, but unfortunately Robin knew better than anyone how easily her patience ebbed. Her shoulders sagged slightly, she landed upon the roof of an old warehouse near the bay and snatched the communicator up.

Grimacing and clicking a button on its head with a press of her thumb, she rolled her eyes.

"What?" she snapped harshly into the round, electronic T.

Instead of a lecture, only a variety of relieved sounds screamed from the tiny thing, most of it came from one green boy.

"Oh my God, she's alive! Jeez, don't scare us like that, dude! Er, I mean…dudet-?"

"Beast Boy, quiet," she growled.

A squeak came as the complacent reply.

"Get off the frequency for a sec, guys," Robin ordered nonchalantly.

She could tell by his voice he was moments away from exploding.

"Of course."

"Roger."

"Peace."

The sound of faint tapping was a cue for her to sit down, obviously she was about to get an earful. But, to her surprise, only silence greeted her awkwardly.

A chilled breeze whipped her hair and cloak about, the gravel of the stone she sat on rubbed uncomfortably against her bare legs, and she took a few deep breaths.

"Robin…"

"Don't."

"But I-"

"Zip it, Raven."

Frowning, they couldn't just sit like this forever. Who was he to dictate when and how she spoke? He was the one that intruded on her, right? If anyone should be angry...

Then why was she obeying?

For once, the silent girl was being eaten alive by the quiet, it was almost worse than a chorus of Beast Boys.

"Listen, Robin, I'm going to-"

"Unless you want to ge-" came the cut-off, headstrong reply.

"What?"

"Raven! I'm serious! Shut up!"

Her cheeks began to boil with rage. No one told her to shut up, not even Trigon.

"No! Not until you tell me why you're being such a douche!" she yelled.

A few more seconds of stillness passed eerily by, and then:

"Language, Raven."

A new voice, one that wasn't coming through the object in her tightened palm, sounded clearly behind her. With a gasp, but not a hesitation, she twisted around and threw her arms out menacingly. Her fingertips glowed with outline of new black against night-sky, ready.

But there was no target.

She had heard him, but he was already gone.

The communicator dropped from her hand, and the sharp cry of cracking plastic pierced the hush before chaos.

"Getting scared, are we?"

Finally, she was able to pivot quickly to where the unfortunate outline of Slade appeared. Her power was ready but she knew that fighting him would ultimately result in a defeat. At least now it would have- she could barely make out the copper in his mask.

"What do you want?" she hissed, grinding her teeth in a mix of frustration and apprehension.

Hands strictly placed behind him, he slowly strode around, baiting her, his steps clearly ringing in the tense air.

"You mean, you don't know?" he questioned back. "I thought I made it clear. But, then again, what can you expect from a Titan?"

Her lips remained stitched together, unwilling to fall victim to his linguistic traps.

"What a shame," he remarked coldly, his flickering, black eye digging into her skin. "Brains before beauty…"

"What do you want, Slade?" she repeated, bristling.

Another wave of silence crashed between them.

"Do you really want to know?"

Now, she was truly in a pickle.

If she said yes, she would feed his pysho-ego, but if she said no, they would just talk in circles forever.

Luckily, he took her quiet contemplation as a definite yes. He stepped softly forward, taking advantage of her methodical state.

"As I said, I thought I made myself perfectly plain when I said you were marked to be mine," he began, taking another foot closer. "But, apparently, I need to repeat myself once more."

Realizing his ever closing-in state, she backed equally away.

He leaned in, his strong chest at a perfect angle as his gaze never wavered, the lid never shutting to a blissful blink but remained fixed upon her flesh.

"Raven," he growled, his throaty tone sending chills up her spine as she imagined his freezing touch. "You are mine. Like it or not, we are intertwined. Our destinies are one in the same. You can accept this inevitability, or, you can be a stubborn brat about it. Either way, I will get what I desire."

"Slade, unless you want me to…"

Not even letting her finish her rebellious statement, he backhanded her to the ground.

He always found new ways to be devilishly unexpected; however, if it was a fight he wanted, he was going to get one.

Merging through the stone, she disappeared from his line of sight, but reappeared behind him and sent a kick to his back.

It would have sent him off the roof, but unfortunately, he caught her delicate foot and instead, she was thrown away. Landing hard on the other side, she panted and snorted in frustration, but ultimately stood to face him again.

Only his mask was visible, it hovered in the shadows, almost as if it was completely separate from the rest of his body.

"Dear child, I suggest you quit now while I still have an ounce of patience left."

Quit? When did she ever do such a thing? Why was he even suggesting it?

"What are you playing at?" she barked out, lining her arms with dark energy once more.

"I would gladly answer that."

Tricked by the light, by something, he came from nowhere, and she was once again smacked to the ground, beneath him.

"Brings back memories, doesn't it?"

A subtle flickering of intense fear and pain skated across her mind as he pressed his heavy, metal boot directly into her stomach. The crushing pressure began to chisel away at her ribs, and she was certain he was going to crack one.

"Now," he started, his eye flicking upwards in fake contemplation. "How did it go again?"

He leaned forward, providing more weight into the hold he had on her, and a crackle of bone pricked in the air. Two ribs snapped.

A sharp, pained inhale of frigid oxygen made its way into her depleted lungs, the throbbing of internal bleeding and imploding cartilage allowed a sweet flow of adrenaline to coat her mind.

His massive foot pressed even more into her stomach, trampling her organs, and now it seemed all of her ribs were breaking under the weight.

Pleased with the look of intense pain, as well as the trickle of blood beginning to drip from the side of her mouth, he released her, only to pick her up by the cloak and throw her a few more feet away.

Skidding across the hard, brittle concrete, her flesh filed away in flakes, and the sting of new gashes and oozing wounds accompanied the horrible aching radiating from her chest.

"Ah, yes," his otherworldly voice announced. "I remember."

The pounding of his horrible walk caused her to try and crawl as consciousness began evading.

"Pathetically, you tried to get away," he recounted. "But, I caught you."

A strong, ice hand dug into her skin.

"_What you have concealed, you shall become,"_ he repeated mockingly.

The fingernails beneath the black gloves tore away, with surprisingly ferocity, her cloak, leaving her back bare, and the mark out in the open for the world to see.

The cement becoming more comfortable by the second, her pain beginning to finally dim out with her vision, he made it all the worse and snatched her up in his arms, his fingers wrapped around her shoulders, he ripped some more of her dignity away.

"Stop it," she spat out, a pool of blood drooling slowly out of her mouth. "Get off!"

Somehow, she managed to push him away, and began to run. Limping, ignoring the ache from her chest, she took slow but decisive breaths as her feet carried her quickly to the other end of the roof.

Once again, however, he cut her off out of nowhere. He was already waiting for her, directly in her path to freedom. Not to be deterred, she conjured what little energy she had buried and spread a pair of flickering wings.

Crying out, she sent every bit of magic at his split mask, the raven avatar screeching in rage as it flew from her.

The tsunami of darkness hit him point blank, and she smiled a little as she braced herself into the ground once more.

"Really, Raven is that the best you can do?"

Finally, her eyes widened to the realization of hopelessness.

That blow should have killed him, she had given it all without a thought toward morality. He should have been a cinder, or blown apart in many different pieces.

In pitch black, she could even make out the crater that was now drilled into the warehouse, she heard the bits of rock fall to the water below in satisfying splashes.

Unfortunately, as she squinted in the dark, his infuriating outline stood directly in front of the hole as well.


	10. Chapter 10

A pool of blood formed beneath her fingers. Her body seemed to be covered in wounds, the streams of red forming, as rivers do, into a sea of infection across her face and arms.

Even her vision was hazed by inklings of burgundy. A nasty cut above her eyebrow cried corrupted tears into her eyelashes until it dripped like raindrops into the crevices of her sockets.

Sniffling, she ran a hand over her massive, blue eyes, flicking the droplets of red away from her. As her nails passed over her sight, Slade vanished into thin air. He had been standing arrogantly, assessing her frustrating predicament, but now he was once again faded into the pitch black.

The twinkling of her darkened power had dimmed into exhaustion, and he knew she had nothing left to give to the meaningless fight.

He pondered his next few actions, wondering if now was really the appropriate time to carry out the next step of his plan. Ultimately, the decision was made for him when a spiky-haired boy jumped into the picture, his bo-staff unsheathed.

A glimmering sparkle of metal lay before her weakened gaze, a flurry of infinitesimal hope burned quickly through her stomach as a friendly face emerged from the darkness, a crumpled mask wrinkling all the more with anxiety and worry.

Opening her mouth to scream, he was already kneeling next to her, a gloved finger pressed gently across his lips. Immediately, she recognized the idiocy of a girlish squeal, it was practically a neon sign blaring "Kill me".

Keeping low, the boy wonder flicked his head around, ears pricked for any sound. A couple seconds passed, the shadows did not betray Slade's position.

Quietly, softly, he snatched Raven's pale, bleeding arm and began to drag her up.

"Can you walk?" he whispered, to which she leaned in to hear him.

Shaking her head, he grimaced and she felt the shaking of his body, the rage already beginning to build inside of him. It didn't take a genius to know that Robin struggled with his darker side but, then again, so did she.

Motioning his head, and expanding his arms like a saint he urged her into them. Dragging a limp, sore girl would not provide a quick escape, and right now that was all he had in mind.

He would kill Slade later.

Stifling the pain of movement down her dry throat, she tried her best to ease into him. Thankfully, he quickly scooped her up and began moving, running in the direction he came.

The moon hid behind a puff of dark cloud, and the city was soberly silent. The neon lights and sounds that usually screamed were only a glimmer in the early hours of the night. Robin's feet sprinted and scurried, and as much as he tried to remain a ninja, the extra weight betrayed them both.

A single pebble was kicked against the slab of stone, and they both froze. It bumped and rolled, clicked and sang, the birds closed their eyes in incoming despair. They were both ripe for the taking.

Slade did not disappoint.

Raven fell, her body hit the ground with an unpleasant crunch, and she cried out in pain.

"Going so soon?" came the psychotic voice of Slade.

Her mind shutting down with complete energy depletion, she could only hear and feel the two dance as they struck out against one another.

Robin roared countless times, and she could decipher the impressive cracking of bones as time passed. The cement rippled, a warm sensation of liquid pooled beneath her, the fighting seemed to continue for decades, until finally, all was quiet once more.

All she could make out was the intense beating of her fragile heart, and the pained breathing of a man.

Robin had won.

The story of Slade had ended, this new evil front concluded and she managed a sigh of relief before she allowed herself to slip into blissful unconsciousness. Shuffling steps against pavement was the last thing audible, it came closer to her broken body before stopping.

Crouching, he tenderly put his arms under her waist and heaved her into his arms. Strands of violet hair whisked into the still, pitch-black air, landing gracefully upon the rock, into the crevices that marked a glorious battle.

Gurgling like a child, blood was coughed up from the mouth of the loser, seeping out next to his cheek. Gashes of intensity ran deep across his torso, his legs were scrapped, his face carved up. He had fought with all the strength left in him, but no one could hold up against such anger.

What had ended the confrontation was a multitude of intense beatings, coupled with a set of harsh throws to the wall, leaving the spine and neck bruised and battered. To end it, the unfortunate had run into his own demise, a poorly placed radiator, where the sharp, unkempt edges had cut in too deep.

He had taken a few minutes of less than extraordinary defenses before finally succumbing to his fate at the feet of his opponent, and now lay a bloody mess as the victor stepped over him to retrieve the thing they both were fighting for.

Kicking the petulant child aside, he took a last look at the rather disgusting wound that would ultimately end the life of one so young. Shaking his cloaked head in a motion of utter contempt, he sauntered off peacefully with a dead to the world girl, leaving the blubbering boy behind.


	11. Chapter 11

"Raven."

A voice pierced through the veil of darkness that had engulfed her brain. Although the reality of pain was not masked so easily by subtle consciousness, it immediately brought her into the world, a sore rebirth of sorts.

Creaking her heavy eyes open, a blaring glare of white light shot into her retinas, blinding her, swaying her sight into confusion. Vomit began to rise in her throat. It was too much too fast- the throbbing of her skull and the blotches of random coloration provided a corrupted kaleidoscope as she desperately tried to see her surroundings and numb the ache of her bones

This bewilderment finally usurped all other feelings, and the day-old food exited her in a surge of bitterness. The wretched sound of retching echoed in her mind until she could not even decipher what her thoughts and instincts were telling her.

Yet, she did not need her mind or full awareness to control her powers. The black wings stretched from her back and cradled her into them; a desperate pang of terror achieved a response of a feathery-night shield protecting the shell.

In a moment of silence, after she had mindlessly wiped the thick drool from her lips:

"Raven," this phantasmal voice repeated.

Frustrated dumbly, she shouted:

"What?!"

The savageness of her own voice came as a perfect shock, a bucket of bitter ice water flung into her veins until a sense of clarity was accomplished. The snarl of her sound again rippled all around her, chiming loudly like cathedral bells.

Quickly, she smacked her hands against her ears, and curled into a ball, trying to block out the noise. Unknown tears and mucus secreted from the open pores of her skin, the terror beginning to finally sink in.

Yet, this did not mean she was weak, or simply laying in wait. Her animal compulsions still pushed for her to survive, even if it meant killing anything that got close enough. The senseless chimes ceased, only an unnerving silence kept her body on edge.

"Raven," this frustrating ghost moaned. "Please. I can imagine your ears are starting to sting."

To her surprise, the chords that came from this speech did not shake her silly, it just annoyed her. Unfolding her wings from her body, she took a peek, dipped a toe into the strange new place. A simple, undecorated but large area greeted her, its heavy shadows suggested underground.

Leaping quickly to the balls of her feet, she crouched, her elongated nails digging into the thick ground. Humid, the rock that lay beneath her was not rough and brittle like asphalt, but something smoother and more natural.

Suddenly, as her slowly-jaundicing retinas flicked from left to right and back again, the lights glared on.

Swearing with surprise, she threw her head back into her chest, and wrapped her arms back around her, trying to achieve a faux sense of darkness.

"Come now," it continued. "You can't hide forever. You're rather pathetic at it."'

Growling lowly as footsteps approached, she snuck a glance through her hand. A figure clothed in black shielded any flow of luminosity. The back of her mind recognized the metal on the shins, the massive boots that recalled a feeling of intimidation and anger.

Enemy is what her body told her, and she took no chances. Swiping with a black claw, she struck, her nails glowing with magic. Taken off guard by the brutishness of her manner, he narrowly avoided being shredded.

It came with a price, for the beam of lights blinded her left side as she relinquished an arm. Howling with rage, she withdrew, cradling her head once more.

"My, what an animal you've become. Dear girl it's only been a couple of days."

The vernacular he used was peculiar, unique. The answer was obvious, but she retained her aloof personality, opting to make this conversation as simple as possible.

"Leave me alone!" she barked, the deformed voice that escaped her lips, wretched.

"Now we both know I can't do that. But I will come back later, if you look at me."

It took a great deal of effort, but she pried her shoulders back into correct posture, more or less, and lifted her proud chin up, her eyes remained closed.

"That's it," he encouraged.

Squinting one lid open, she quickly shut it again, the glare flaring through. The discomfort made her shift away, crawling back into darkness.

"Turn them off…" she choked out. "I can't see."

"Just once is all I need."

Huffing out an annoyed grunt, she nodded and breathed in. In a flush of anger she willed them open, betraying her sparkling blues to the pain of radiance. It hurt, but not as much as she thought it would. A couple times she pounded curled fists into her sockets, hoping that rubbing them would provide relief.

Unfortunately, she was left blind, barely able to make out his darkened outline approaching, a sunspot.

"Just a little longer."

Grinding her teeth, she allowed him to get closer until his icy hand was on her shoulder, holding her steady. But it wasn't just keeping her stable, it was pushing her down. Before her roars of protest could escape her lips, a heavy weight sagged against her limbs.

"What're you doing?!" she yelped, her lashes blinking furiously. "I thought I just had to…"

"If you keep squirming, it will be all the more painful, child," he cautioned. "Hold still."

She didn't have much of a choice, for the crushing burden rendered her thrashing muscles useless; however, she still rolled her eyes everywhere, desperate for a sighting, batting the lids in darkness and into light.

"Stop it," the stranger ordered. "Unless you want your skin to dissolve, keep your eyes still."

"Why?" she panicked. "What are you going to do?"

A hesitation passed.

"Make it easier for you to see."

Curling her lip, she snapped her teeth.

"Liar!" she accused, flaying around against the unseen load.

"Well, you don't have much of a choice do you?" he countered. "I won't leave until this is done, Raven."

The reminder that she had a name caused her to stop. Squinting as best she could, she tried to make out the features of the black blob that danced behind the glare, but to no avail.

"Who are you?"

"I'll be happy to answer that question if you do what I say."

Perplexed, annoyed, but thoroughly intrigued, she nodded and spat a hair out of her mouth.

"Charming," his strong but strangely high voice judged. "Now open your eyes wide."

Against all her instincts, she did as he asked, stretching her lids to the furthest position possible. As seconds flicked by, his presence sank in closer, and for a moment she almost thought he was made of water, his black ink threatening to drown her.

"Steady, steady," he murmured, noticing the wriggle of fear hitching her body.

Clawing her nails into the floor, she squeezed and became stone, hardened to anything coming her way, preparing for some sort of catastrophe. A droplet of navy blue grew closer to her eye until it touched. The cool liquid splurged into the corner, sinking to the back of her skull.

But, she kept her eyes open, until another drip stabbed her, and she flinched. The crushing weight eased away, and she quickly sat up and jumped away, landing back on all fours.

"What is this?!"

"Calm down, girl," the voice came from above her, closer than she thought. "Blink a few times."

Obeying listlessly, the sting came a few seconds later.

"Ow, it hurts…" she whimpered, raising a hand to rub it out.

Something stopped her, it shifted and moved- a hand?

"I wouldn't do that just yet, let it sink in."

The hurt did not stop, however, it just intensified until pained tears poured out, thick and salty. Sucking in sharp breaths, it became a burn, cauterizing her insides. Unreal, she had to crouch to the ground. He released her, and she immediately placed her palms to her eyes, wiping away the tears and covering the infected throbbing of her face.

"W-wha-?" she began to question frantically, rocking on her heels, clenching her canines.

What stopped her was the definite sound of an iron door closing far away.


	12. Chapter 12

The days passed by slowly.

At least she assumed it had been days, the pitch black had consumed many things, her sanity and sense of time being just a few among many. Lying still on the floor, she kept stroking her hands together mindlessly. It was the least she could do, literally.

Her protesting limbs groaned with soreness, while her eyes remained blinded by her surroundings, to which she still had little clue on exactly where she was. The man that had come had not returned, like he promised.

But he was a thief. Angry at herself, she had let him do this to her. Where had her sense of self worth gone? How could she let a supposed enemy get the best of her?

Her amnesia had faded soon after he left, after she was left alone in the solitary silence of the hole she must have been trapped in. Recollecting, she hadn't a great idea of what happened, just that Slade and Robin had fought, and someone had lost.

The unknown deceased's dying breaths and faint gurgles plagued her, toying with her psyche for she had nothing left to muse about but her past life.

Hunger, dehydration, she had wondered how she had survived this long, especially since the burning had hurt so much.

Wincing at the memory, she snagged her hand away from its twin and rubbed her eyeballs again. It had been up there with her worst episodes of pain, and she was relatively certain it had left her permanently blind in both eyes.

Although she wasn't sentimental about it, things like that were overlooked when your very insides echoed from being so hollow and depraved. At that thought, she poked her stomach and felt the ridges of her ribs, noting that some were more eccentric than others.

That, too, ached, but not as much as the fluid that was probably still making its way out of her sockets. She had screamed and screamed, but no paramedics or heroes came to her rescue, she was alone when her retinas melted.

Black water dribbled down her face as she tried to expunge the virus from her eyes, it dripped from her chin and onto her body. The last image she recalled was that of her fingers being stained with her own corrupted tears- sticky and thick.

The secretion had been just as bad, acid crying from her own body, although she did know how it was possible. Slowly lowering her arm back down to begin the rubbing game again with her gnarled hands, she felt out where the burns used to ooze infection, but now were just crusty scabs.

The icy but softened stone beneath her provided a rough but not completely terrible bed, if she ever slept. She imagined herself to be a complete mess, but really it was unimportant, she would die soon anyway, what did it matter if her corpse looked nice or not?

Although what did start to annoy her was the increased length of her hair. Contrary to belief, it grew rapidly, at an inhuman pace. Almost every day she would snip it back before it could blossom, but now it weeded from her scalp and she felt it sawing against her back.

If there was any justice, someone would provide her with a scissor.

There were many unfortunate things about her predicament, and even worse was that she couldn't think about anything else. Contemplating her lost friendships was much too painful, but analyzing her current state wasn't a sunny option, either.

No, she simply, apathetically waited for another sound to occupy her dumb thoughts.

As if on cue, the creak of incoming footsteps rang all around her. Too weak to sit up or curtsy to her new guest, she remained rubbing her hands together as she lay on her side, engrossed, now, with the diversion.

Excitement began coursing through her; she hadn't expected surprises- how thoughtful.

Hope began to surge as well, but not for freedom, no that was far too implausible, she only wished to be able to talk to the man again, so she could cuss him out rightly before she faded into nothing.

Her wish was granted, and a voice cooed:

"Raven."

Just like before, except this time, she was giddy.

"You came," she squeaked, her voice a high pitched and unsteady monotone- it had been a very long time since she used her throat muscles.

"Of course I did, child."

Squealing with glee, she beamed a ditsy smile.

"What did you do to my eyes?" she questioned in a daze, chafing her palms together more forcefully as the noise became louder.

"I improved them."

Stringing out a song of unsettling giggles, she found the lie amusing.

"I'm blind."

It was his turn to chuckle, to which she frowned malevolently, her fingers stopping their fun; she slammed one of them on the ground.

"It's not funny!" she shrieked.

The adrenaline took a great deal of her energy, and she calmed back down and pried her hands back together to continue the sport.

"You can see, silly girl," he chastised, mocking her. "You just have to open your eyes first."

Confused, she turned over onto her back and placed her arms on her stomach, crossed.

"What do you mean?"

The heavy stomps rippled her body, she loved the way it vibrated on her skin, such a new experience.

"What do you think I mean?" he questioned back, she felt his shoe. "Get up and look around."

The logic remained lost on her.

"I don't understand."

His anger was quick and brutal, the feeling she had enjoyed about his walking now responded evilly with a swift kick to her side, snapping one of the healing ribs again.

"Don't play coy with me, Raven. I won't ask again."

Sputtering out a wheezed cough, she blubbered but obeyed, her body taking over as she rose to her knees. Hands firmly pressed to the ground, she pushed and somehow she was so much higher than she had ever been before.

"What now?" she asked innocently, trying to hold her balance as her knees shook.

Not in the mood for her, he ascended- snatching onto her weak shoulders first, he then grabbed her face in his hands and placed his fingers over and under her eyes. Pulling with ferocity, even though she put up a pathetic flail of her arms, smacking his back as hard as she could, he wrenched her lids open.

Colors were what she saw first. There was white of course, from the lights. But it was a dim one, more diluted orange than a radiant glow. Then, there was him, to which she expected a face to reside, but there was none.

Only a split façade lay before her blurry gaze- half copper and half black. Strangely, the voice attached to the body, which was attached to the weird head, had only one eye- like a Cyclops. Except this one was isolated to the left side of his face.

For a second, she felt pity- he only had one eye.

Moments later, reality sunk in, and the rush of information that had been blocked by ignorance and darkness rushed through her cranium. Although she was in the belly of the beast, the lion's den, the enemy's lair, only overwhelming sadness crippled her.

If Slade had survived, that meant that it was not the madman that had died so tragically upon the rooftop but,

"Robin," she whispered in despair, sagging in the arms of the enemy.

His cold, black eye narrowed.


	13. Chapter 13

"Let go of me!" she screamed into his face, clearly seeing the monster for what he was.

Tugging and pulling proved useless against his steel grip. His hold on her was cemented by her constant struggle to get away. Although her muscles throbbed, her eyes bleary and going in and out of double vision, she still fought against him.

The black gloves shone with stability, unrelenting, he hardly expended an ounce of energy in retaining her. Really, she was doing more harm than good to herself, but at that moment, as long as she did anything except give up, it was worth it.

Blinded by malnourishment, she had allowed herself to be subjected to Slade's experiments- a rookie mistake.

"Raven, what happened?" he questioned, leaning his painfully aggravating mask in. "Just a few moments ago you seemed so keen on my presence."

Still trying to wrench away from him but not getting anywhere, she glared murderously.

"I found out that I was being held against my will by a fucking psycho!" she yelled, spitting up at the mouth in an immature rage.

The back of his hand struck out against her cheek in a spiteful slap, but the twin appendage held her steady, refusing her to be free on the floor below him.

Watering at the eye, she tried to shake off the stinging pain aching at the sight, but failed as a single tear dripped down.

"You are so miserably weak, it's almost not worth the effort."

Whisking her head to stare him back in the eye, she curled her lip in a snarl of utter hatred.

"Then why don't you just kill me?!" she shrieked.

He took a pause and replied:

"Please try and keep your blubbering down," he sniped, stiffening his back. "It's starting to hurt my ears."

"You didn't answer my fuc-"

He raised his hand in warning.

"Those vocal chords are starting to outlive their usefulness," he threatened, glaring at her beneath the mask.

She formed a hard, angered line with her mouth, and they were once again caught in each other's proud gazes.

"I haven't exterminated you yet because that would serve me no purpose," he explained finally. "If you were dead, then I would have to find another host, and it would be far less enjoyable."

The word he used, host, she shuddered at what he intended for the girl. Courage building up in her stomach, the walls were closing in, chances of survival dwindling, she decided to strike out- even though she knew losing was a definite possibility. Before she could find out, she began to move her arm into action, summoning up her power.

"You'll find that quite impossible," he commented casually, as if bored.

Horribly, he was right. Nothing sparked into life, her fingertips did not glitter with her birth-given right; however it fed her monstrous anger.

"I swear if you don't tell me what you did to me…"

Her voice trailed off, he gave a chuckle and shook his head. She should have left the death threats to him. But, he threw out a rope, anyway, extending what little mercy he had.

"I would be glad to tell you, dear child," he commented surprisingly, causing her brow to furrow in suspicion.

"What's the catch?" she immediately questioned, Slade never came cheap.

A perfect smirk graced the lips of the maniac, and he studied her reaction, drinking in the pride before the fall.

"Follow me and find out," he challenged, playing to her competitive side.

_Don't do it. Don't do it. _Her reasonable side screamed, repeating it over and over in her head.

Did she have much of a choice?

His icy hands remained on her skin, the hunger that shook her empty belly groaned, and staying in the dark any longer would ultimately drive her to insanity- if she hadn't reached it already. Besides, she could land a lucky shot and find a way out.

Choked in the throat, she swallowed her crushing vanity, and fear, and gave a slight, subtle nod.

Mildly shocked, he let her go.

As if possessed by a gentlemanly force, he extended a hand to her. Raising one lavender eyebrow, she swatted it away, she wasn't that desperate.

"I can walk," she spat, crossing her arms.

Deflecting her comments, he shrugged and turned quickly on his heel, striding gracefully in the direction he had come. Too fast, she slowly trailed, shuffling her feet close together.

Knees wobbling, calves already burning from a few steps- the lack of food, water, and exercise were taking its obvious toll.

"Hurry, Raven," came his smug voice, ringing from the faceless shadows.

She clenched her jaw, biting her cheek until it ached. A few cusses flew under her breath, cursing her rotten luck. Trudging on, she could no longer hear the pitter patter of his light footsteps, and she stopped. Inhale, exhale- taking a few breaths, placing her slender fingers on her legs, she feebly tried to support her weight, catch what little air she could before continuing.

Hot and muggy, the oxygen was thicker than blood, it was almost impossible to breathe- it had to be underground, there was no other way of explaining it.

He picked up on the fact that she was lagging behind, and he came out of nowhere, snagging her hand in the process and dragging her forward, much to her chagrin. Starting the tug-of-war game again, she almost pulled her shoulder out of its socket trying to gain the freedom of her hand.

"What a sore loser you are," he criticized, and she could practically sense the confident smile under his cowardly mask. "And here I thought you were the most decent minded of the Titans."

A flash of Robin made her flinch. Her heart started to beat unusually, pained by the loss of her dearest friend, and the guilt came moments later. Their last conversation, she had yelled at him, and he had just wanted to apologize.

He noticed her sagging spirit, and peered slightly back at her.

"It appears I've hit a sore spot."

Her boiling blood evaporated the lamenting thoughts, and she growled- canines exposed.

"Shut up," she snarled.

Instead of waging a senseless war he had already won, he patted her hand patronizingly, knowing that it would drive her mad more than any words he said.

She receded back into her shell, probably thinking of how she was going to murder him or some futile plan to escape while he wasn't looking, and he was happy she had finally stopped speaking. He hadn't been lying earlier when her uproar had pained his ear drums, akin to nails on chalkboard.

So far gone within her mind, he had been able to direct them with ease to the first milestone on their short journey: A massive steel door.

When he pulled and twirled the latch, the steel cracking loudly, she came back to reality. He noticed that the usually strong girl was watering at the eye, and he rolled his one pupil. Had she really gotten so attached to the whelps?

"For the sake of dignity," he snapped, his tolerance for young women ebbing. "Cease your weeping, girl."

This was why he had waited for her to ripen into a more bearable age. At sixteen, she was far too hormonal. It had been how long? Four years? Yet she still persisted to act well below her maturity level.

Picking up on his annoyance, she sniffed up the remaining tears, although part of her wanted to bawl until the cows came home, in part just to pester him further, and in part to mourn the loss of her friends, life, and freedom.

But, she wasn't one to give up so easily, her team would come for her.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Sorry for the wait, been terribly busy. Enjoy the feels.**

Through the steel portal he had taken her. A single light illuminated the dense shadows of underground, swinging back and forth. Squinting, it was too much for her. Unaware of how long she resided in pitch black, she supposed it was a long purgatory.

Her free hand flew to her face, shielding her sensitive eyes from the encroaching luminosity. Too bright, she stole her head away, far away, burying her chin into her chest and firmly shutting her eyes.

Senses heightened, she heard a muffled bark of laughter escape from the figure directing her. In response she quickly peeked out, and flashed her fist into his back.

Knuckles aching, she was surprised how incredibly little it achieved.

"Son of a bitch…" she swore, wagging her hand and rubbing the fingers tenderly.

Of course by that time he had halted, almost in disbelief at her feeble attempt.

"That was it?" he mocked, his demonic façade in full. "That's all?"

Puffing out her cheeks in a mix of rage and embarrassment, she glared deeply.

"Sorry I couldn't give you what you deserve," she snapped. "If I had my powers and hadn't been starved and blinded and kidnapped…"

"Excuses, dear child," he reminded painfully. "The fact of the matter is, you never had a chance."

Remembering their weak pact, she gently placed her hand on her hip, trying to regain what little pride she had left.

"Enough with the cryptic shit," she demanded, smirking at his wide-eyed response. "We had a deal, remember? What do you want from me? And no vague answers."

Once again, however, he bowed and motioned with his hand for their continuance.

"We're not there yet, Raven."

Grunting, she peered around, quickly searching for a way out. Following her sparrow-like attention, he shook his head. She was truly terrible at hiding her plans. He would have to correct that at some juncture- if she survived.

Taking off, he began sauntering into the dark again, but instead of staying put, she ran. Taking it as a sign of frail luck, she wasn't going to wait and find out what the sociopath had in store. She had learned that lesson recently.

Mustering all the energy she had left, she sprinted in the opposite direction. Pained breaths, sharp clicks of feet- it was a loud escape. Feeling much like a child chasing after a nonexistent ball, the panic that he might be tracking her down rose in her throat- her panted exhalations became chokes of anxiety.

The light seemed to be miles behind her as she retreated into darkness. Finally, her body smacked into something rough, and extremely cold. Wriggling her fingers and blindly feeling about, she assumed it was a wall.

Damp, her hand came back with droplets of liquid. Furrowing her invisible brow, she pondered if they were beneath a waterfall. Maybe somewhere near a lake, river, or some other body of water. She shuffled sideways, her skin rubbing against the stone.

Her full weight leaned upon it, scratching her elbows and knees. Feeling like she was on a twisted tightrope, she scaled for what seemed like hours. The edges waved and shifted, but the stone lurch remained.

"Where is it…?" she whispered to herself- there had to be an opening, a sign, a portal (anything!) somewhere.

Caught up in the drama of it all, she tripped over her clumsy feet and fell hard. She had reached out her hands to brace the impact, and suffered the result of a grinded socket. The radiation of pain throbbed all the way from her shoulder to the small of her back.

Crying out instinctively, she smacked her hand over her mouth to stop the shout.

Slowly, surely, evilly, plotting footsteps clashed upon the smooth floor. Not again, she scrambled, crawled as best she could back to the stone wall, the lifeline.

Too late, a powerful hand landed on her neck. The chill summoned a flurry of shakes to electrify down her spine and up again.

"Pathetic," was his only word before he inhumanly lifted her up.

She cradled her sore arm into the other, nursing it as gravity ensued upon her legs once more. Making a few clucks and assessing her moronic injuries, he spotted, among other things, cuts, bruises, and a solid welt forming on her elbow.

Then, he also noticed how acutely she was rocking her arm, hugging it close to her chest. He knew that reaction well.

Knowing that she had suffered a dislocation, he reached out. As expected, she shifted quickly away, flinching, and hilariously growling. Muttering useless swears and demands for space, he flicked her requests off.

Methodically, expertly, he snatched her wrist away and snapped the shoulder back into its hollow.

"Christ!" she nearly screamed, awaiting another round of unbearable pangs to escalate.

When there were none, and instead relief flowed through her bones, she cocked a violet brow.

"What did you-?"

"You ask too many questions," he cut off, and instead of waiting for her hand or pleading with her idiotically to trail him like a lost child, he swooped down and picked her up in his arms.

Again, she yelled in his face. The mask may have blocked his identity, but it certainly did not mean he couldn't hear, the girl was the definition of nuisance.

She cried and thrashed, but it didn't matter, really, they were already making exceptional time. He kicked himself for not doing this in the first place.

The destination came a few feet ahead, and although she flailed like an insignificant brat, he managed to squash her negligible attempt at free will. Another door, but not like the other, it was made of a rich redwood, an elegant and refined design that looked ironically out of place.

Puzzled, she still gave another round of resistance, but her eyes locked upon the knob as he easily swiveled the polished gold blob. Silent, it gently cracked open, a plethora of horrors already plunging their paranoia into her mind.

Expecting a well devised torture chamber, it became something much more unsettling. Although her vision was wavering, swaying, and altogether murky, it was lucid enough to see the outline of a bed. Massive, red, and covered in luxurious covers of velvet, an army of flickering candles hung from old fashioned lanterns.

Dim still, a soft, inviting carpet was trampled uncharacteristically by his black boots as he took a single step in, the tidal wave of fur enveloping the soles. Walls of homey logs cut from the same tree as the entrance, it felt more like a beloved cabin, a relaxing getaway treat, than a malevolent dungeon.

Stunned, really, she went limp in his arms, taking in the stark contrast, he could see it was overwhelming her, and he prayed she wouldn't swoon, his thin tolerance for teens already evaporated – she wasn't escaping that easily.

Entranced, she dangled her head to the left and right, trying to see past the decoration. Pursing her lips and opening her mouth slightly, her tongue would not expel the question she was trying to ask.

"Now, I will answer your inquiry," his far way voice announced, cracking the intoxication of astonishment. "You, dear girl, are going to be instrumental in providing me with a new apprentice."

Euphoria snapped, she now placed her attention in him, the buzzing of a warning blaring in the back of her mind- a foreshadowing. The fingers on her leg and upper arm tightened, pressing into her pale flesh.

"I have failed with two already," he admitted, his tone dipping into a deeper baritone before rising to its usual skeletal high pitch. "But, I'm not one to give up, Raven."

Her skin began to crawl.

"I would never…" she began to hoarsely protest.

"Not you, silly girl," he reprimanded, his eye flicking horribly into hers. "I want what's inside you. Or, should I say, what will be."

He couldn't mean…

"I've always wanted to be a father."


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Ye be warned. Smut.

It was all so wrong. This wasn't the Slade that she was accustomed to battling. He was breaking character, fiddling with their regular pattern. A few punches, he was always vanquished, and then she could sleep easy at night until the next round.

A bump gulping up and down her throat, she braved another question:

"What happened to my powers?"

Whispered, he was barely able to hear her whimpering.

"To explain that to you would require time that we do not have, dear girl," he responded darkly. "All you need to know is that you have none. And trying to utilize them at any time will only result in disappointment."

Unsatisfied, she squished her face up, bitter. In addition, she gave another flare of kicks to get out of his hold on her, feeling weak and defenseless in his obnoxious arms.

"Spit it out, Slade! I'm not going to wait all day for another cryptic explanation!"

Musing his response, a wicked one flicked across his brain waves, he peered down.

"Do not worry, girl, I will tell you," he began softly, his vibrato purring. "_If _you perform well tonight."

Confused for a flash, she realized just what he was insinuating, as if he wasn't clear about it before.

His explanation was more than unsettling, it was horribly horrific. Vomit rose in her throat, the legs he clenched onto shook, clammy sweat sprouted all over her body, prickling and swaying the terrified goose bumps.

It was easy to gag, it was hard to protest, to scream, to resist when the body was shell shocked. Basic instinct directed her, and a bubble of stomach content coughed out, not that she had anything left.

He rolled his one eye and began walking forward; a little sickness was not going to delay the inevitable. With calculating precision, he placed her down on the repulsing blankets, the silk caressed her open skin. Until now, she had not realized how little she wore, all of her clothes torn and shredded- barely enough for a slapdash of covering.

She focused on the blood red coloring of the despicable sheets, barely able to feel, numb to the enveloping of comfort that brushed against the open holes of flesh. Suddenly, she scrunched the blankets in her hand, her knuckles going white with stress and anxiety.

The dumb epiphany of what was meant to be came like a tidal wave over her senses. Breathing hitched into hyperventilation, her heart thumped as fast as stomping hooves, blasting her ears into deafness with the horrible throb of veins and blood.

Weak and weary, she knew that fighting this would prove fruitless, what was the point? Where was the mercy? The goodness of humanity became lost, without a solid or purposeful definition- she broke down upon the bed.

No longer did she have to worry about glasses shattering or rooms disintegrating when her true feelings were released Her abrupt dissolution into weeping was as much of a freedom as a burden. The tears flowed rapidly, uncontested, unadulterated.

Already half blind, he strode quietly to the edge, gripping the elegant wooden frame tightly as he peered upon the hysterical girl. If he had been normal, it might have offended him- she obviously found him to be too repulsive; however, he was unable to conjure any real feeling of empathy for her situation.

She had chosen the life of the hero and, sooner or later, all who treaded that path had to pay the consequences. She was lucky that her life continued in his presence. Should he say anything, or simply begin the process?

Waiting wasn't going to make it any easier for either of them, so why not?

Shrugging callously, he unbuckled his steel belt, expertly pulled his feet away from their leathery shelters, and unclipped a variety of clasps. Although her silent sobs did not stop, they did become less noticeable; she yanked her head away from him, refusing to acknowledge his actions.

Slaughterhouse, he was starting to stiffly pull off his uniform, she caught a glimpse of his bleached skin. Of course pale and bright from all the years under the black clothing, it almost hurt her eyes, it was unnatural.

Luckily, she was turned away enough, her sight blurry enough, that she refused to acknowledge the man shedding before her. He wasn't going to, he couldn't- this wasn't him, this wasn't the game he played. Thousands of times, every second, she sank deeper into denial.

Oxygen depleted, she couldn't suck in enough clean air- it was all foul. A couple times she choked out her situation:

"I….I…I….can't-" sitting straight she wheezed and panted, dry spit falling from her cracked lips.

Her grip on the covers loosened, she was going to faint, and for once she was content with showing weakness. That meant he couldn't touch her. A smirk, she withheld her inhalations, and awaited the oncoming black, a loophole.

Scrutinizing the obvious situation, he quickly came around to her, noting how her face was beginning to match the color of her hair. Expertly, he gave her back a quick whack, trying to shock her out of her delusion.

The hit came from behind, and although it bruised her spine, she was jolted into regularity. Expanding, her lungs began to work properly, tempting her to breathe. An idiotic plan ruined, she clung desperately to it.

"If you don't open your mouth, I will," he threatened, his mask still clasped on- dressed only in a tight black shirt and a pair of shorts, he was able to keep his menacing aura, and she gulped.

Nonetheless, she held her quivering jaw, and swallowed down the urge to respire. His eye narrowed.

At an inhuman rate, he grabbed a hold of her jaw and pulled down, while his other hand snagged onto her hair and tugged the opposite direction. Her scalp felt like it was splitting, while her chin broke, but she fought, and lost easily.

Too soon, her mouth was gaping, and while it was in position he gave an elbow to her stomach- light but solid, and she lurched forward, unable to keep her body from performing from its basic function.

A surge of air forced its way into her body, reviving her organs and blood. The poignant embrace of continuing consciousness was unwelcomed by her desperation.

"Really, Raven," he said, and she glared up, her chest heaving violently. "Swooning is beneath you."

A flush of anger boiled in her body, and she struck out, her emaciated wrists snapping out grotesquely. Catching it, she sensed a smile beneath his still intact mask. Evilly, he tugged her hand to the side of his split façade, forcing her to tenderly trace his metal guise.

It took another grind of her bones to get control of her hand back, but the point was made. All too fast, her rage and anxiety sent a chill of butterflies through her organs, thumping of the heart beating.

The lights went dim.

She cocked her head in all directions as she heard the light whoosh of more clothes falling to the carpeted floor. She could see his bending outline, but could not see the man in full flesh, his mystery intact.

Closer he came, and she thrashed again to no avail as he snatched her arms in cold, thick-skinned hands, the shock of his touch sending a current of electricity- sparking her eyes in dilation. Black and wide, she could not deny the sensation.

Curious, her fears abated for a millisecond, before they crashed again in her mind. Feebly, she tried again, to get away somehow, there had to be a way out. Where was the team? Where was Robin?

Playing the role of the damsel, the hideous monster holding her captive made a move. In her petrified confusion, he snaked his fingers closer to her chest- the nails crawling onto the remnants of her leotard.

Noticing far too late, she cried out for him to stop, but he had already ripped the rest of it away. Shreds of shreds barely covered her body, and he held her hands away, not allowing her shame to be hidden from his one-eyed sight.

A twisted passion, he slowly, sickly pushed her back down into the center of the bed. Her foot instinctively kicked up in defense, he dodged and more aggressively pressed her into the awfully, silky-smooth sheets, his knees nailing her down.

Fatigued, she still struggled beneath his bare chest, not noticing the strength that flowed and punctuated every inch of his body. Nor did she acknowledge her own nakedness, pretending to fantasize that they were simply fighting, that was all.

He wanted more than that, however. In the madness, their eyes connected, her phobia of intimacy finally ebbing in the deep navy-black of his inky eye. For a moment, her biology instructed her to comply, but her brain said otherwise, and much more loudly.

Wriggling under the pierce of his intense gaze, she sought a reprisal from the nightmare about to be carried out, but there was none. Swiftly, she felt him near her, too near, his body completely lowered into hers, destroying innocence.

Threads of oblivious denial withering by the ice of his touch, she quivered as his mouth brushed into hers. In pitch black, she couldn't even use her hands to see him, feel the texture of his obscure face or dark hair- or even the sick look on his face as it fell into psychotic pleasure.

The outlines of his tendrils hung in spikes, sometimes the white of his eye was interrupted by his own hair seeping down. She felt it sway like frozen grass against her, shivering, he was all cold, no warmth, nothing but a glacier.

Tensed, it didn't get any better. This was supposed to be magical, hot, and wanted- but it was the opposite. Cold and painful, there was nothing she could do while he groped her. Frigid tickling fingers that danced all over her broken body, his action became less organized and more impassioned.

So unaware of acceptance, his weight was crushing her, he let go of her arms and settled for the small of her back as he lifted her into him. Now the lightning of frostbite struck her spine as she felt nothing but his stroke, his push.

A true marionette, he pulled her string and she was just his toy, the best plaything he ever had. From above he saw everything, the discomfort on her features, the pain laden in her violet eyes, her clothes ripped beside her, he scoured all of her.

Searching for more, he found nothing, not a hint, and his silent rage exploded. His brute vigor pounded into her bones, and he heard her as she begged for an end, not even remembering the words she had used, only the clear angst in her voice.

His grip became too much, she was sure her arm was breaking. The humiliation of the event was blindsided by a new ache, a score of new injuries sprouting in indigo blotches. Sore, he finally saw her distraction, the loosening of her tight will.

She had allowed a different impression of pain to distract her and, finally, her bones began to sag and mold into him. His glacial flesh became hers as she was engulfed into his spectrum of emotion. In the intense kiss where his sharp, snake teeth bled her lip, she understood the war of fury within his iron, cold steel core.

The drips of her blackened blood oozed down her pale neck and, he, entrance by the flowing, decided to slither his tongue out and lap it up. The salty flavor of dried tears and hopelessness sated his craving, and he took a good deal of time swallowing it.

Undeterred, he went in again, his canines breaking any skin they could while his nails dug erotically into her stomach and back, his branding everywhere.

The pain was unnoticed, she was beginning to numb. Nerves did not respond as he erupted and violated every inch of her, her eyes went just as dark as his, but when his all-seeing eye noticed her limp nature, she would know to moan or groan, just to abate his ruthlessness.

He knew she was playing along but, at the moment, he could not care. A woman, a beauty at that, was being pleasured beneath him and not screaming at the sight of him, rare.

Her legs wrapped around him, and he noticed the curling of her toes when he struck out at her or when he snapped his jaws too hard on her skin.

The entrée was done, and he was ready for her useful purpose. Although he could have bruised, beat, and kissed her for the rest of eternity, the sociopathic plan was beginning to throb in his mind.

She knew what was happening the moment he began to shift. He untangled her legs and began to plant his corrupted seed in her treacherous womb. Gasping at the pain, the warmth, the inexplicable sensation that blossomed throughout her nervous system and dazzled the crevices of her mind, it was a feeling she had never experienced, something that could not be recycled or outdone.

As much as she hated, truly loathed, to admit it, her senses were screaming in delight. But just as stunning as it had been, it ended. The cool rush of wind chilling her back into the reality of ache- it was all feeling and sound, a cornucopia of ambiguous emotion. Was this love?

The sizzling in her stomach told her so many different stories of what she was supposedly undergoing. Squinting, she still could barely make out a face.

His eye had been observing carefully the entire time. At first, she had pushed him away, resisting. Then, her face had fallen into split sides, warring between self-loathing and craving. This continued, he studied the quickening heave of her chest, the twitching of her fingers as they grabbed onto him, unknowingly.

She was a lamb, and he had defiled her, sacrificed her to his own schemes, perpetuating her fastening demise. While she was entranced by the initial, new impression, he had scrutinized where the mark was spreading, it was all over her shoulders- the infection of his brand cocooning her entire back.

He left her body with a smirk, and lowered down again for another round- a glutton for savagery.


	16. Chapter 16

"Where are you?"

The masked vigilante whispered his concerns into the cool winter air. He was beginning to forget her face, and that deeply concerned the anxious teen. How long had it been? He counted each day, and each passing sunrise and sunset spiked his heart.

This particular hour marked day one hundred. Raven had evaded his reach for three months.

His dearest friend was dead. His mind explained that several times to him, but his link to the dark, clever girl protested in defensive love.

He had tried to save her, told her to wait for him. But, it seemed that their signals had been hacked, and that was the worst possible order he could have given her. Anything, even jumping off a cliff, would have proved to be more successful, less hopeless.

Nonetheless, she halted her escapade, right where Slade laid waiting, right where he wanted her.

The boy-wonder had, once again, played right into the psychopath's hands.

If only she hadn't left, if only she had followed the order that really mattered, he wouldn't have felt like such a failure.

He crouched to the same spot, searching desperately for a new clue. They had all scoured the roof of the old warehouse by the water, turning over rubble and makeshift homeless houses. There was nothing, though, not a trace of Slade or Raven.

It was if she vanished- gone without as much as a stray hair.

A smashed communicator marked where the masked villain had surprised her, ambushed her like the coward they all knew him to be. But, it was Robin that felt like the dog with the tail between his legs. He could be doing so much more, risking all he had to rescue her.

The rest of them were locked up in the tower, giving all of their attention to anything suspicious on the scanners. Starfire and Beast Boy were practically glued to the main computer, while Cyborg still attempted to crack the mystery of her mark.

Luckily, if there was such a thing anymore, he had collected enough skin and energy samples to have a base, but there had been nothing new since they made the connection between her power and the tattoo.

The spiky-haired boy had tried to help as eagerly as possible, but it was clear his presence was delaying and aggravating the others, so he decided to tirelessly hunt the city. He came home late, sometimes bruised or with hardened black eyes that conveyed his darker side.

They did not ask.

Starfire glanced worriedly at him from time to time, but it was their most important mission to find Raven, and if that meant he had to beat a couple criminals to a bloody pulp to obtain a scrap of information, then so be it.

Lost in his obsidian thoughts, he barely managed to flick open the communicator on the last beep.

"What?" he hissed into the small, metal circle.

"Robin," came the deep, smooth rumbling of Cyborg. "I've got something."

Skeptical, the robotic teen had sent up false red flags before. He paused, even if his bond screamed in hope.

"Are you sure…?"

"Man, you have to trust me," he cut off, and even Robin could hear the hitch of excitement behind the speaker. "It's not like the last time. I've found a way to find her. In fact, I've already got a location. We're just waiting for you, dude."

Of course, they had fruitless attempts at a score of dead ends, but the confidence that sung behind the fast rambling of Cyborg had just enough of a gamble to tempt Robin to jump off the building and sprint his way back to the heart of the city.

* * *

"Here, friends?"

"No, no! More to the right...more…more…stop!" Cyborg instructed, flinging his palms up.

"Now may I…?" the scarlet haired girl questioned.

"It's all yours, Star," Beast Boy squeaked, a cocky but hollow grin stretched across his bestial fangs.

Eyes glaring a violent shade of jade, the slim girl cried out as she fired a stream of flame from her fingertips. On impact, the solid rock shook and shuddered. They took a breath, not knowing whether to try again or wait for it to crack.

Luckily, the stone split, hanging together by threads of silicates. Awkwardly, the robotic boy coughed, subtly hinting that the alien should take a more physical approach to tear the rest of the rock apart. At first, she did not understand why he was hacking so aggressively.

She gave him a stare as she made her way to the boulder, pondering whether she should fetch a home remedy after the mission. Absently, she pounded her deceptively strong fist through the gash and it finally parted, falling to the ground in loud thumps.

"Good work, Star," the changeling applauded.

"Thank you, friend Beast Boy," she mindlessly replied.

Striding quickly to Cyborg she gave him a whack on the back, and he fell to the mud.

"Star?!" he yelled into the dirt. "What the hell?!"

A happy giggle exploded from Beast Boy, he was practically on the ground, rolling over in delight.

"I only assumed you had fallen ill. Tell me, friend, are you quite well?"

"I'm fine! Why would you…?!"

"Titans. Enough."

The solemn order came from behind. Robin came out of the shadows of the tall trees, arms strictly at his sides as he marched up to them.

"Is this it, then?" he snapped. "This is where he's keeping her?"

They all nodded quietly, sharing wary glances.

"The tunnel leads to the old caverns beneath the city," Cyborg explained, standing and brushing off the soil on his mechanical limbs. "It's a miracle we found it. This passage hasn't been used in a long time."

"A perfect hideout for Slade," the bird snarled, frustration permanently etched into his pale features. "Let's go."

Not awaiting the rest of his friends to follow, he sprinted through the hole. Not even commending Starfire for uncovering the musky, dark channel. The team shrugged, still letting a few steps go between Robin and them before they began trailing him.

A massive hole in the side of an even larger mountain gaped wide- and Beast Boy began to sweat. The entryway seemed just out of his nightmares, how similar it was to the last hiding place. He wondered if Raven had already turned to stone as well.

A gateway to hell, the nervous but brave young heroes tiptoed quickly through. The three stayed clumped together, perfectly happy to let Robin lead the way. Unfortunately, when they heard his perilous cry from farther down the tunnel, they ran to help.

"Robin!"

"Wait, don't…!" came his late reply.

Untimely, they realized what had caused the boy to scream. In the pitch black, they could barely see their own feet, let alone a trapdoor. Gravity showed its evil face, and they fell through the darkness. Skin scrapping against the narrow edges, they tumbled down.

Finally, they hit the ground, clustered one on top of the other, groaning from the impact.

"Dudes, I think I broke my…"

"Focus."

Robin was already up and crouched before them, analyzing his oozing cuts.

"Oh, friend! You're hurt!" Starfire gasped, her hand smashing into Beast Boy's face while her foot rammed into Cyborg's back.

"I'm fine," he retorted hollowly. "C'mon."

Slowly pushing themselves up and away from one another, they had to once again play cat and mouse with their impatient leader. Not allowing another surprise to catch them off guard, they jogged right behind his fluttering cape.

* * *

"How are you feeling?"

Turning her head to the right to look directly at him, she shrugged quietly. Sitting back, he turned his attention to the monitors, typing on a few keys.

"Fatigue?"

She nodded.

"Loss of appetite?"

Squinting her eyes, she bit her lip.

"Occasionally?"

Another nod.

He grunted a frustrated response, but smashed his fingers upon the keyboard anyway.

"Do you still have nausea?"

She widened her eyes and gave a strong affirmative- that was a winner.

He gave a sigh, clearly displeased. Immediately, he opened a drawer and snatched a pill bottle. Rattling loudly, he opened the cap and shook a few tablets out and reached for her hand. Compliant, she quickly opened her palm.

As soon as they fell into fingertips she gulped them back and swallowed without hesitation.

"That should help with the vomiting…" he mumbled, his focus full on the screen.

A few silent moments passed, and she took the advantage to shut her eyes and daydream. Something interrupted her meditation, and she fluttered her big blues open to find the source. He had asked a question, but seeing her in such a peaceful state, he simply studied her rising and falling chest, the fragile flare of her nostrils, the quivering of her lips.

But now, she had awakened once again, and he noted the sunken cheeks and somber eyes. No sparkle left in the deep teal, only a flicker of their former selves. Yet, there were instances where it came back, if even for a second.

That one night, they had glimmered for hours, and it was then he realized how addicted he was to the brilliant shine. They had a connected stare, but she broke it, timidly peering down at her stomach.

Machines hummed all around her, a beeping heart monitor, the silent groan of churning cogs- in the right light- it was relaxing. Lying casually on her back, hands together obediently on her stomach, she awaited another series of questions.

"What about the kicking?" he pondered.

Distracted, she rubbed the bump.

"Better."

Her silent response glittered into his eardrums. He observed her out of the corner of his eye again, noticing the diamond twinkle that lit up her face when she felt him. Scooting the chair over to the tall edge of the table, he gently nudged her hands away.

Dressed in a loose, black hospital gown, he raised it over her head, and folded it over the railing. When he went back to check her vitals, he smirked at the corruption all over her skin.

Silvery symbols coated her pale body. Stretching from the small of her spine and around her torso until it stopped just above her chest, she had a cape and collar of his mark. It came down in elegant flourishes, swirls of miniscule letters that gleamed just like snake skin.

Some of the curves invaded the frames of her face, but had not trespassed further for months. The exciting aspect was the mimicking of her doomsday tattoos. Large, demonic 'S's raked across her abdomen, forearms, and legs- just the way he had envisioned them to be.

Nonetheless, he spotted her lie. Even in the chaos of his mark, he could still make out blatant violet bruises on her belly.

The kicking had intensified.

"Raven…" he began to chastise.

She was caught, and lowered her chin submissively.

"I just didn't…" she whispered.

Snatching her hand in his, he thoughtfully rubbed her knuckles with his gloved thumb. Puzzled, she was surprised by his tenderness.

But, he really wasn't thinking of her. She was a vessel, even if he enjoyed the lights of her cerulean orbs, what mattered was what festered in her womb. If only the girl would survive for a little longer, he could reap the child before she fell.

Part of him, however, was hoping she made it out alive. Broken spirit, she was already falling in line with him. Deliciously, she had given up.

He would have to work on her hand to hand, obviously, as well as her aggression, but having two was much better than one. Perhaps he could allow only the healing portion of her energy back, which would be certainly useful.

Brewing a cornucopia of schemes from the roots of the master one already planted, he stood, whisking his hand away from hers. He fed her well enough, but all of it went to the child. Hollow, her scrawny frame did give him a sick sense of pleasure- he couldn't help enjoying pain.

Musing it over, maybe he would just keep her here with him forever. Did she really need to fight along his side? He had already filled that role. Besides, as every man knows, it is hard to be a single parent in this day and age. A woman in the life of his offspring might prove useful.

Even if she was just his plaything.


	17. Chapter 17

"How much longer?" came the pallid whine of Beast Boy, his puberty-cracking squeaks bounding off the narrow, solid walls in distant echoes.

Cyborg's glaring red eye snapped back to look at him, shushing another round of oncoming complaints. By the reeking body language of Robin, it was clear that he was in no mood to tolerate petulancy. Starfire heaved a sad sigh while observing the state of her friends, her main concern locked onto her dearest companion.

They had trudged through the tiny tunnels for hours, mindlessly circling the caverns. Still an eerie, uncomfortable pitch black, the only glow sparkled from Cyborg's built-in flashlight. A caravan of tired teenagers, they dragged their sore feet. A solitary energy radiated from Robin, his arms swinging violently as he stomped into the ground, each gained foot making him exponentially furious.

They passed a frustratingly familiar scratch in the wall of stone, and they flinched in anticipation of their leader's rage. No doubt, he had seen the repetition, and stopped dead in his tracks. The rest of the team huddled against one another, practically feeling the heat explode off the boy in waves.

His hands started to shake, and before they could stop him, he slammed a fist into the solid barrier, denting it. Cyborg and Beast Boy were mildly impressed but overwhelmingly anxious, while Starfire gazed pointedly at the blood beginning to ooze from his gloved knuckles.

"Cyborg," he ordered, his voice dry. "Knock it down."

Not wishing to anger the kid again, he immediately pointed his sonic cannon at a random block and fired. As expected, it tumbled down, and they jumped out of the way as the tiny landslide crashed.

Dust clearing, they were thoroughly disappointed as the hole revealed yet another dark, empty tunnel.

"Can't you track her?" the boy-wonder snapped, turning his aggression.

Hardening his mouth into a firm line, Cyborg eyed him with a steady gaze.

"I had a clear signal, but ever since we came in here, I've got squat. This entire place is a dead zone, man."

There had to be another way, some other loophole they could slip through. Robin could feel it, they were so close, unbearably near. He spat a boiling wad at the ground, unsure how else he could release his blinding fury without breaking his other hand.

"Do you remember any specific coordinates?" he barked again, not even looking at the robot's face.

"Doesn't work like that, Robin. I had a faint direction of where she was, but nothing pin point," he explained. "All I can remember is that it looked north."

All the pieces floated in the bird's head, not fitting the way he wanted to, but they still provided insight. Furrowing his brow until a migraine sprouted, he stumbled through the information.

"Is there any way you can find a zone that isn't dead?"

Puzzled by the obscure question, Cyborg gave him a confused look.

"Wha-?"

"What I'm saying," Robin interrupted, his knees wobbling in anticipation. "There's no way Slade can be holed up _here, _and not keep tabs. If every output is weak, then he must be somewhere that has good connection, the only connection."

Getting straight to work, Cyborg led the way, his arm buzzing right in front of the light.

"I can't guarantee its accuracy, especially down here," he began as they all followed. "But my system is roughly designed to find any sources if they're in close proximity."

Invigorated with new hope, Robin could barely keep himself from charging. Hanging so closely, he almost ran right into Cyborg's hard, mechanic torso. Balancing himself, he was about to tear into the robot, but a huge blast of power made him bite his tongue- an unexpected sonic fire right into the dead-end slab of stone.

The thick dirt cloud wafted and eased, they all peered uneasily in.

Robin smirked, a cocky, intense grin as his white-hot eyes pierced ahead. They continued, at a much quicker pace, easily avoiding the sweep of the lone, beeping security camera.

* * *

She felt his eye upon her, thoughtfully studying as she put her head into the toilet bowl once more. Not even offering a pat on the shoulder or at least a distracting comment as she heaved heavy gags. She got the feeling he enjoyed seeing her so miserable.

As if he hadn't put her through enough.

Her sweating, pale body shook with clammy goose flesh, prickling light hairs while she lurched.

She had run abruptly from their shared, mid-day meal, straight into the quaint lavatory. Rolling his eye as he heard her pained, queasy squeals, he strode lazily in to provide a hand should she fall foolishly.

He wouldn't put it past the clumsy girl to put the child at risk because she couldn't stifle her reoccurring sicknesses.

Finally, she slumped back, the awful feeling throbbing to a dull ache inside. Heart still beating fast, she leaned against the opposite wall, dreadfully exhausted.

Still, he stood and observed- his tainted gaze always upon her. Suddenly becoming horribly angry, she peered down at her open neck and began to listlessly trace the disgusting marks with her fingertips. Burning, she dug her unkempt nails into her skin, trying to scratch off the disease laden in her flesh.

But it wouldn't come off, it never did. More ferociously now, she attempted to draw blood. Even just a little patch of her own skin would be enough to keep her from going insane. She hated it, how it always glittered right in her peripheral vision, taunting her.

When the teenager actually succeeded in her masochistic action, a droplet of red liquid dripping down her chest and behind the cover of the hospital gown, he intervened. Before she could yell or scream for him to stop, he snatched her palms in his usual vice grip.

"Now, now," he patronized, and she noticed the way his eyes swirled in sarcasm. "Let's not doing anything rash, love."

He then gave the back of her hand a reassuring, but ultimately humiliating pat, holding her fingers close to his makeshift, masked chin.

At that, she girlishly gasped, appalled by him. The sarcastic comments she could take, usually, but the way he feigned concern made her stained flesh crawl with rage. He knew all her buttons and pushed every one, mastering the art of annoyance.

Quickly, she yanked her hands away, and he allowed her.

"You…" she flustered- in such anger she couldn't properly think. "You…_asshole_!"

His eye gave her a look of satiric disappointment, and she knew the words before they ricocheted out of the slits.

"Why, Raven," he said, holding his hand to his chest in a posh gesture. "I'm hurt."

Growling, her canines sparkled as she curled her lip venomously.

"Oh dear, it seems I've kidnapped the wrong Titan," he commented, his voice acidic. "Heel, dog."

"Shut up!" she hissed, lowering her shoulders menacingly.

Giving a wry chuckle, he found her feline crouch to have the opposite effect. Three months pregnant, still shaking from nausea, and a set of nasty tangles braided in her uncombed hair, he found it adorable that she still fought.

"Stop it!" she snapped, her face in a permanent glare.

His nonexistent patience thinned- her tone was inexcusable.

"Calm…"

"No, I will _not!_" she cut off, a spray of spit flying from her crazed mouth. "I won't do _anything _you say, anymore! You psychopathic, insecure, arrogant, evil son of a _bitch!_"

Part of him wanted to torture the stupid girl, but he decided that the offspring might be affected in the aftermath.

_Pity_, he thought, his fingers wiggling with addiction as he thought of her bleeding, beaten, and swollen before him.

Like many times before, he aggravatingly walked away, not even giving her silly words a reaction.

Seeing him cowardly retreat made her even more ferocious, and she cooked up a threat he couldn't refuse.

"The first chance, the _very_ first chance I get, I'll _kill_ it! The minute it enters this horrible world, I'll strangle it with my bare hands!" she shouted out after him.

The moment it was said, she regretted it. For as he heard her rash wailing, it was all he needed to justify punishing her. Turning sickly slow, twisting around, she felt her breath leave in such pure terror, a feeling she hadn't been able to conjure in months. His horrific stare boring into her innocent blues, his glare made her burn and freeze in a confusing purgatory of emotion.

Arduously, he made two paused strides back to where she was curled against the wall. In instinct, she scooted and scrambled her spine further into the smooth stone, foolishly thinking she could just disappear through, away from his grasp.

His frigid presence illuminated right into her bones, just inches from her. Crouching down to her level, he reached a frisky hand to her neck, tenderly caressing it. He felt her frenzied heart beat like thunder, the vein itself pumping.

A frown beneath the mask, his eye squinted in a short burst of rage as he gripped her trachea in a devastating hold. Coughing, trying to truly, physically respire, she flailed weak legs beneath him.

But, he wasn't going to strangle her, not yet at least. No, he picked her up by the scruff of her skin and dragged her out of the room, pathetic joints clacking against the marble floor.

A million different ideas bounced around in his head, and he wasn't inspired by most of them. She needed to be taught a serious lesson, a session that would permanently break her stubborn spirit. He thought they had been over this, that she had finally slumped to his will, but her pesky hormones were on red alert.

Groaning incoherent apologies and pleads beneath his gloves, he blocked her rambling out as he flicked through all the possibilities. She needed all her blood, her strength, unfortunately, so he couldn't starve or cut into her.

That also ruled out beating her into a coma.

Drugs?

No, nothing that would harm the child.

This made it rather difficult. On top of that, she seemed very resistant to pain. Verbal abuse seemed highly effective, but it wasn't the time for one of his glorious rants, he needed action- a swift retribution to bury her once and for all.

His own two feet led the way while his mind remained churning, the girl still hanging. Noticing the rough texture of the lobby ground, and a few scrapes on her open legs, he sighed and picked her up, placing her like a fresh kill over his shoulder.

In fact, as he thought out all the things he could do to her, his hands were tied- he couldn't risk it. Grinding his teeth, she felt a massive quiver of frozen fury shimmer through his body.

Anything too dramatic and he would most likely regret it.

He would not underestimate his actions after the first too failed apprentices.

Still moving, he became aware of where he was taking them, the girl began to idiotically beseech, louder than before. What was she blubbering about now?

It was then he recognized the dimming lights of the northern tunnel- it was too perfect. Cackling with a pleased but dreadful bark of laughter, she began screaming.

"Please, no!" she wailed, pounding her weak fists into his back. "I won't fight back, I swear. I didn't mean it…"

He couldn't get over the feeling of pure, unadulterated victory. He didn't need to epically scheme or plan anything, but his body lusted for it, all he needed to do was sit back and let it control him. They both trembled- her, in the highest level of denial and anxiety; him, in egotistical ecstasy.

Flinging the rich wooden door open, he entered the candlelit bedroom- its blood, red sheets sending her into shock.

"No, not again! Please…please, I swear I won't..." she whispered, snatching onto any loose pieces of his clothing.

Unfortunately, this came back to bite her when she actually managed to flick off one of his shoulder guards, the metal thudding into the carpet.

Filthy thoughts entered his mind, her naked body before him while her eyes hollowed and darkened into servitude. He wasted no time, throwing her onto the comfort of the covers while he held her down. Leaning in close, his mask brushed her ear as she shook with fear.

"Beg me not to."


End file.
